


Proof

by grappled



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Warehouse 13, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 82,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grappled/pseuds/grappled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Ranger' Myka Bering is forced to spent a few days snowed in with a stranger called Helena. They make a connection, but when they meet again in the real world, the situation is very different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**December 2013**

**Day 1**

Icy wind pinches at the Ranger's face as she trudges up a short track to the final stop of the day, light snow swirling before her eyes. This cabin is located four miles north of the nearest park retreat, and she planned on being safely ensconced by just after sundown.

Bathed in soft light emitting from a side window, the Ranger shines a flashlight over a parked SUV, just making out a Nevada badge on the snow dusted plates. There are nearby footprints in the snow, now being filled by the fresh fall. An attached trailer holds a tarpaulin covered motorcycle, an exposed tyre suggests a road bike which she finds odd for these parts and this season. Rounding the corner of the cabin, a gust of wind catches her off balance, and her ankle twists awkwardly as she stumbles. "Damn!" cold air invades her lungs as she sucks in a breath. Recovering, taking the last few steps up to the porch, she raps on the door. Getting no answer, she moves to clear a circle in the side window, even as she feels the hard barrel of a rifle dig through her thick parka and between her shoulder blades.

“Don’t move a muscle" the accented voice was female - an even, controlled tone that carried through the wind and brooked no argument.  
Counting five heartbeats, the Ranger waits, “May I speak?” she says, irritated, not without a hint of sarcasm.  
There was a note of surprise in the response, “I shall step back, please turn around slowly.”

The pressure of the rifle is released, so the Ranger slowly raised her hands in supplication, turning as instructed. The owner of the voice appeared to have hastily thrown her gear on - black ski pants, boots and a ski jacket that looked a size too big, hung open to reveal a dark sweater. A green scarf was flung about her neck and mouth, but light spilling from the porch revealed ruddy, high cheekbones and eyes black as night, dark hair spilling from under a fur lined aviator. The Ranger patted a huge embroidered logo on her chest, ID badge securely clipped underneath. “As you can see,” raising her voice as the wind visibly picked up “National Park Ranger.”

With the slightest movement, the woman flicks on the narrow beam of a torch, better to verify the information in the waning light. "So you are, Ranger....Bering" she says, but does not lower the rifle. "May I enquire what brings you so far out, in this inclement weather?"  
Ranger Bering looks pointedly at the barrel of the gun, then back up to impassive eyes, "I check properties each week" she states, then tips her head slightly to the side, eyes challenging, "although, I don't believe we have record of a visit here this weekend."  
The stranger's cheeks push up with the movement of a smile, though it doesn't reach her eyes, "Last minute arrangement. I have a friend who suggested it."

"Does your friend also greet visitors at gunpoint?" She is becoming increasingly annoyed, there is a dull ache in her ankle and the weather is changing rapidly.

The woman lowers the gun suddenly, "To me you are a stranger, but forgive me, force of habit."

With her free hand she now pulls the scarf down to reveal full lips, already paled by the cold. "Do you need to, as you say, 'check the property'?" a corner of her mouth twitches as she gestures toward the doorway. Ranger Bering is about to make a very deliberate show of doing just that when the hiss of her radio signals an incoming call. She unhooks it from her belt and steps to the side as the woman moves past her onto the porch.

The voice of Ranger Jackson crackles through the air "Ranger Bering, do you have a location?"  
"Ranger Jackson, I'm at Nielsen's cabin. Last stop, heading out in...15"  
"Ranger, I'm looking at images which tell me there is a huge front almost upon you. You might wanna hole up there tonight." She looks at the woman shaking her coat, and beyond sees the glow of a log fire through the now open door.  
"If I leave now, I could make it back" she does not want to stay here, now. There is something about the woman which has her on edge, her manner, her casual ease with a weapon, but the Ranger can feel a definite change in air pressure, so will have no choice in the matter.  
"Ranger. Myka. 'Could' is not good enough, believe me, you don't want to get stuck out in this." he's firm, and she's learnt in a short time that Ranger Jackson's intuition is to be trusted in situations such as this. She sighs, silently berating herself for persisting in this weather for so long and failing to head back sooner.

"Ranger Bering, you are welcome to stay, there is plenty of room as I am sure you know." The woman pulls the hat from her head, dark shiny hair lifts in the wind and falls as she steps through the doorway without a backward glance. 

"Ranger....Paul. I'm staying here. There's a lone female resident, last minute visitor apparently."

"Got that, check in first thing ok? It's a big one, over and out." The radio crackles into silence, and Myka Bering heads gingerly to the doorway, favouring her left foot. She brushes snow from her coat before stepping inside and bolting the door against the coming blizzard.

\---

Myka pulls off her hat and gloves and places them on a side table. She's zipping down through the layers of her heavy duty jacket when the woman appears in a doorway.

"Ranger...a coffee, or tea perhaps?" She is still in ski pants but has pulled off her sweater, a long sleeve black tee is pushed up to reveal slender but firm arms, and hands devoid of jewellery. "I apologise for the greeting you received, it's just that, lone woman, wilderness..." She shrugs apologetically, waving a hand.  
Myka relaxes a little in the face of her changed demeanour, though she doesn't quite buy the dismissive explanation, this woman knows she can take care of herself. "A coffee would be good and....apology accepted..." Myka tips her head "It's good that you can handle yourself, as you say, travelling alone…" There's a question lingering there, but the woman simply holds Myka's gaze and says, "I certainly can" with just the hint of a smirk, before turning and striding back into the kitchen. Myka feels a flush of heat colour her neck, so busies herself by removing her boots and waterproofs before following.

There are three brown grocery bags on the kitchen worktop, the open fridge door reveals well stocked shelves. "So, Myka...unusual name?" she is filling a large cafetière, then by way of explanation, looks over her shoulder "I heard your Ranger friend on the radio."  
"A variation on my grandfather's name," Myka is unsure why she finds herself so...forthcoming. She thinks she is lulled into compliance with the sound of her name drawn out by that accent, it's disconcerting, but a strangely pleasant if unfamiliar feeling.  
"Hmmm, Polish, perhaps?" she retrieves milk from the fridge, then, loaded tray in hand nods behind Myka to suggest they head to the lounge.  
"Correct." Myka, is surprised by the accurate guess, "...and you are English...?"  
"Helena" she says with a smile, again not answering directly. "Myka, you appear to have hurt your ankle?"  
Myka drops herself at one end of the sofa in front of the fire, "It's nothing, I fell in the snow. Pretty much a minute before having a gun pointed at me" she says with a wry smile. This conversation feels on the border of flirtatious, something she has not...indulged...in for a very long time, has not wanted and didn't think she ever would again.  
"Ah, well, let me make it up to you" her host leaves the room to return with a bag of ice. "Here, lift up" she kneels, and as Myka reluctantly pulls both legs onto the sofa, Helena positions the ice under the right ankle. Her hands linger for a moment before patting the bag lightly. "Thankfully I have more," she smiles, "I prefer my Scotch over ice." 

Helena pours two mugs of coffee before settling at the opposite end, facing Myka with her own legs bent at the knee, tucked up under her chin.  
"So, it seems we are in for a bad night?" She asks casually, sipping her coffee slowly.  
"Yeah, Paul is normally spot on, but only the morning will tell us how bad it is." Myka adjusts the ice, glad of it now that the sting has passed.  
"Well if we are snowed in, I have plenty of supplies."  
Myka sincerely hopes they are not snowed in, she has a job to do, and being trapped is not high on her wishlist right now. "I hope not," she says, "I would develop a severe case of cabin fever, not pretty."  
Helena mumbles into her mug "Oh, I doubt that, Ranger".  
Myka isn't sure if that was intended for her ears so she ignores it, takes a sip of her drink and asks, "So, what brings you here, last minute?"  
Helena's demeanour shifts slightly, the playful air diminishes as she turns her head toward the fire, grasps at the material just below her neck "I needed time away, on my own...this place presented itself as an option..." she trails off and Myka suddenly feels like an intruder.  
"I’m sorry, I..." she starts, before Helena's eyes snap back up to her.  
"Don't be. Away doesn't always mean alone, just different." Any further discussion is dismissed as she stands up "I think it's time for a top up."

Helena stretches her legs, then procures a short, flat bottle from the cabinet in the corner of the room "Care for a shot?" Her tone has lightened again, and she refills her mug before pouring in a dash or two of alcohol.  
Myka hesitates "Technically, I'm still on duty, so I'll refrain." She winces at how ridiculous she sounds whilst lying on a sofa, leg propped up, wind howling outside, and no way of returning to her post. Helena just raises an amused eyebrow, steps over, cafetière in her right hand, and gestures with the four slender fingers of her left for Myka to hand over her mug. Myka finds herself watching those fingers and hands now as they hold her mug, pour the coffee and push it back to her. Helena grabs the whiskey and holds it tipped over Myka's mug.  
"Tell me when" she says, glint in her eye, and drops a splash into the mug. The aroma hits Myka's senses, makes her feel warm inside, and she looks up at Helena's eyes, offers a crooked smile then nods. Without breaking eye contact, voice low, Helena murmurs "Good woman." Then she pours a second, more generous amount into the mug.

They settle back in silence for a while, and Myka feels her eyes drooping, so she shifts position to rouse herself, "Have you drugged me?" she says in jest.  
"Not yet, darling" Helena laughs softly, "Feel free to sleep though, don't mind me."  
Myka wonders at the use of the affectionate term, it's so very _English_ , but her fatigue wins out and her last thought before drifting off is that she should radio in again during the blizzard to check signal and status. 

\---

_She's running, heart pounding, it's all she can hear, the thud, thud, thud of her blood pumping. The air is thick with dust, debris raining down creating a macabre winter wonderland. She's searching, frantic, she's screaming a name but no sound comes from her mouth. She stumbles, drops to her knees and there by her hand is a crimson smear, a shock of blond hair, a body half covered by rubble. Her hands reach, start to claw at bricks and twisted metal, but there's too much. It's an infinite pile, rebuilding as quickly as she clears it. Her chest is heaving, her hands are cut, teary eyed she feels her throat constricting..._

"Myka...Myka...."  
She jolts awake, eyes wide, struggling wildly as a firm grip tries to pin her arms at her sides.  
"Myka...it's a dream, a nightmare"  
Above her is a woman, and as her eyes focus she realises it is Helena, she is on the sofa in the Neilsen cabin. She allows herself to be subdued, seeks out the dark eyes above, wills her breathing to slow. After a moment Helena whispers, "Ok now?" and when Myka nods she feels the grip released and Helena sits up but does not leave her side.  
"I put a blanket over you, but you may have gotten a bit hot..?"

Myka folds the blanket down, finds her voice which sounds gravelly to her ears "I think, just a little..." She looks at Helena more closely, sees a red welt at her temple, reaches up to touch it...and feels her wrist quickly clasped in Helena's hand, then slowly released. She closes the gap to gently touch the mark, Helena doesn't even wince, just watches her. "Did I do that?" Myka whispers remorsefully.  
"It's nothing, honestly" Helena's voice is low, she doesn't move "Are you sure you're ok? You were quite distressed"  
Realising she is still touching Helena's face, Myka pulls her hand away to twist with her other. "It's just a nightmare I have. The past." she says without thinking, like the past is some time so far gone it doesn't matter. But it does, and she closes her eyes.  
"You lost someone" Helena says, it's a statement. Myka knows her expressions betray her, but this stranger appears to understand. Then as if Helena has read her mind, she continues "The nightmares. If I were laying there asleep, I fear it would play out the same."

Myka opens her eyes as Helena sighs heavily and moves to stand, but Myka stills her with a touch to her arm. "Thank you, and I'm sorry I have intruded on your haven."  
Helena appears to consider something, then says, "You are right, it is a haven of sorts. Sometimes we need to get away from the things that make us remember." She is clutching at her neck again, and now Myka can see there is a chain peeking from the neckline of Helena's top. She looks at Myka now, sincerity in her intense gaze, "You are a welcome intruder, Myka, despite our shaky start. You are very welcome." 

Myka moves to sit up, but before she can reply, Helena assists her then stands, "I shall go prepare you a room" and she disappears. Myka is exhausted but she finds herself wanting to stay up with Helena, to talk and find comfort. Because, inexplicably, that is what she has found tonight. Despite only a few hours, despite the nightmare, it's the closest thing to peacefulness in eight months. It may be the circumstances, brought together in the warmth of the cabin, but she feels a connection to Helena, she is a shameful flirt but Myka senses it is part of a carefully maintained front. She _knows_ there is grief in Helena’s life, she fights with it too.

Helena returns, now changed into nightwear - sleep shorts and a light tank top, revealing toned legs and upper arms. Myka finds herself _drawn in_ by the sight. She is confused by it and a little guilty, but it's there, a thrum in her veins.  
"I've left something on your bed, for sleeping in, if you want it..." Helena is back to her lighter mood, she cocks her head at Myka, "Is something amusing you?"  
Myka colours, realises she has the semblance of a smile on her face. She is stuck on the sofa feeling ungainly, caught admiring Helena's body and a nervous giggle slips out. She has to laugh at herself "I don't know where that noise came from, how much Scotch did you put in my coffee?"  
Helena smirks, "Certainly not that much. But would you like a proper drink before bed?" Myka nods, and decides she is far too warm now so swings herself up and brings her legs down before pushing up, leaning on her left. Helena moves forward, holding both arms out in case, but Myka steps gingerly and finds it's not so bad "I'll live" she says, "but I really need to get out of these clothes before I melt." 

She heads for the room Helena indicates, it has a queen sized bed, a dark duvet, faux fur rug plus a pine wardrobe and set of drawers. Basic, but cosy in the soft light of a single lamp on the bedside table. Helena has left a pair of light long cotton pyjama pants, a grey tank and hooded sweatshirt on the bed. Myka changes and emerges from the bedroom feeling less constricted and certainly less overwhelmed by the heat of the fire. A tumbler awaits her on the coffee table, neat whiskey, and there is a small bucket with tongs so she drops three ice cubes into the glass. Helena emerges from the kitchen again, her own drink in hand, plus a broad, flat box. "I had a rummage and found this, would you care for a game?" Myka can see now that it is an old battered Scrabble box, scuffed at the edges, one corner torn. She smiles, one of the nicer childhood memories of her parents surfacing "Yes, why not." 

In the main, they play in comfortable silence, they are a pretty even match and Myka thinks that they surprise each other. She learns that Helena is just as competitive, and there's a delay in the game as she searches the cabin for a dictionary, incensed that Myka doesn't view the Oxford English Dictionary as the only source for settling disputes. "You are in the USA now, Helena" she'd said, and earnt a magnificent scowl. 

One game and a number of whiskeys later both of them are stifling yawns and by unspoken agreement ready themselves for bed. Taking the spare toothbrush Helena offers her while stood outside the bathroom, Myka thanks her, "It sounds like the wind has died down out there so hopefully I'll be out of your hair in the morning, but thank you."  
Helena murmurs, "It's been no trouble at all" as they cross paths in the doorway. Myka stumbles and feels her arm caught by Helena's firm grip once again. Myka looks up, and an oft used phrase about her own clumsiness dies on her lips when she sees Helena's eyes, they are fixed on the place where her fingers curl around Myka's bare arm. Her hand is warm, and Myka becomes hyper aware of the touch as she straightens so that she is looking down at Helena. Her mind whirls, this touch is intimate, they are stood close in a doorway with a bright bathroom one side, and a dimly lit hallway the other. When Helena's eyes shift upwards, Myka feels trapped by them, she recognises desire, and wonders what her own eyes betray. Do they betray the same, a need to feel desired and desire in return, or do they betray grief, guilt and regret. It is this thought which causes an involuntary choking noise in her throat, and she looks away, pushing herself into the bathroom, feeling warm fingers release her arm. She somehow says a "Goodnight" and Helena reaches in to pull the door over, "Goodnight, Myka" she says, voice neutral and Myka wonders if she just imagined the tension between them.

 

**Day 2**

When Myka awakes, she can see that it has been light for hours, and when she fumbles for her watch she's shocked to see it is near 11am. She doesn't recall sleeping this long and unbroken for a while, but her mouth feels bitter and her head is not quite clear. She heads to the bathroom to freshen up, releases her hair from its tie and runs her fingers through to loosen the knots. She throws on the light pants and fitted long sleeve tee that make up her base layer before picking up her radio and heading to the kitchen. The kettle is boiling, Helena is busy arranging some breakfast and she turns as Myka enters the room, "Morning, I heard you stir...coffee?" she says casually. 

"Actually, do you have fruit juice? Anything will do...I'm just going to..." Myka gestures in the direction of the main door. "Go ahead" Helena sounds amused, "It's passed, but...well, see for yourself." When she opens the front door, Myka rolls her eyes and sighs. Snow has drifted against the cabin and it's waist high at this side. As she goes from window to window, she ascertains that the snow is half a metre deep in places. She radios in to colleagues and they confirm roads are currently impassable in the area, and the overnight forecast is for a drop in temperature which will not aid a thaw. She will not be leaving this cabin today or likely the next. 

Back in the kitchen, Helena has set toasted bagels, cherry juice, tea and coffee on the table. Myka sits, takes a gulp of juice and raises the glass in thanks when Helena sits opposite.  
"I've spoken to headquarters, it seems I will have to impose on your hospitality a while longer...." Helena passes over a plate which, when Myka reaches out to take, Helena doesn’t release. She holds her gaze, "It's no imposition, Myka. I told you." Myka smiles awkwardly under the attention, “Ok” and Helena releases the plate into her grasp. They eat in silence but Myka finds herself watching Helena’s hands as she prepares her tea, then as she spreads butter on a final piece of bagel and puts it in that mouth of hers. That mouth that Myka sees curve into a smile, slight creases at the edge of lips that she just wants to… Myka realises that the smile is meant for her, she has been caught out. She makes the mistake of looking up into Helena’s eyes and her expression jolts Myka. It is the ghost of the one last night when they stood in stasis by the bathroom, dark eyes hinting at desire - before they become unreadable again as she averts her gaze to pour more tea.

“I just need to…” Myka says, gesturing vaguely to the hallway, and she stands, scraping the chair back noisily, before walking away. She walks to the bathroom, takes a deep breath, looks at her slightly flushed cheeks and unruly hair in the mirror, ‘No, no, no’ she mutters to herself. How can her libido, dormant for so long, decide to return full force at this moment? She'd convinced herself that she'd imagined the tension between them last night, because being stranded with an attractive stranger, feeling this urge, is a recipe for disaster. She knows she can do little about it except endure, be professional. Be Myka. 

When she returns to the kitchen, Helena is at the sink, her arms submerged in soapy water as she washes their dishes. And it’s absolutely no use, because Myka looks now at how the tight jeans Helena wears hug her hips and show the curve of her backside, how the fitted white tee stretches across slim shoulders, and there is a slight dampness near the base of her back where she must have leant against the counter. Most of all, she can see the smooth pale skin of her neck, dark strands hanging down where Helena has loosely clipped up her hair. That hair Myka now realises she wants to run her hands through. Last night, aware of her whiskey hazed state, Myka had hesitated, stopped something that had yet to start, the weight of her dream still fresh. But conversely, in the cold light of day, she finds herself wanting, and the wanting is new, it is a feeling she had forgotten. She has doubts, oh she has doubts, but this want is powerful enough to assuage them, not five minutes since resolving to resist. So she finds herself moving across the floor, her sock covered feet quiet but not silent. So that before Myka even stops, centimetres between them, Helena has ceased all motion, resting the flats of her arms on the edge of the sink, wet hands balling into loose fists. Her head remains tilted downwards, so Myka stoops to lightly kiss her neck, catching wisps of hair on her cool lips. When she pulls away, a sigh escapes from deep within her and she senses Helena shiver as breath hits skin.

"Myka" her name, spoken in a tone that could mean 'we shouldn't ' or 'we absolutely should'. So she dips her head down again to the same spot, presses an open mouthed kiss, a nip of teeth, a slow lick upward. There it is, a low, short groan that says _absolutely, we should_. To underline the point, Helena lifts her right arm up and over to grab the back of Myka's own neck with a wet palm, as she lifts and twist her head to offer her mouth to Myka's. It makes Myka close the now minimal gap, slipping an arm around Helena's waist so she is flush against the length of her. Myka hungrily accepts, this is no chaste kiss, there are lips and tongues and teeth and soon Helena's whole body turns into the embrace so that it can deepen. So that Myka feels her bottom lip sucked and dragged at by teeth, so that Myka can possess Helena's mouth and be possessed in return. They are breathless, Myka pulls away "I want..." she gasps, and Helena reaches up, nibbles at Myka's ear "So, take" she whispers. Myka feels it from the pit of her stomach, a noise pushes up and out, a moan, a growl of sorts and she doesn't recognise herself as she drops her hands down to grip the back of Helena's thighs and lifts. Helena grunts in approval, wraps her legs around Myka's firm torso as she is lifted up onto the edge of the counter, so that Helena is now the one who must to dip her head down to resume the kiss. 

Myka squeezes firm thighs before letting her hands tease upwards to the edge of Helena's cotton tee, to snake her fingers under material. They groan into each other's mouths at this simple touch of skin against skin, and Myka wants more. She pushes her hands up Helena's back and then drags down, agonisingly slowly before grabbing the hem of the tee and lifting it up and off. Helena's arms, released from the material, drop loosely to rest on Myka's shoulders as Myka drinks in the sight of bare, lightly freckled skin and the curve of breasts against the deep purple silk of a bra. Her eyes drift up to a collarbone, and there she sees the chain, and attached is a locket. It is curiously old fashioned, out of place and out of time, and her hand drifts up as if to touch it but she stops, realising that Helena is holding very still, holding in a breath. Myka's eyes roam upwards to parted lips, to eyes dilated and black as night. Eyes that say 'please, don't ask, just leave it be', and Myka blinks, her hand drops back to grip a firm thigh. What she now sees in those eyes she is sure mirrors her own, an all consuming need to devour, to get lost in one another, to forget. "Hair" she says, and sees a flash of confusion, then amused understanding. Helena reaches behind her head with both hands to slowly pull out the clips that are restraining her dark tresses, never breaking eye contact. Myka hisses out through her teeth as hair falls to Helena's shoulders, and it's heaven as she runs fingers through it and scrapes Helena's scalp gently to pull her back into a kiss. She feels Helena's fingers push into her own wild hair as thighs and legs hug her body tighter.

After a while she breaks the kiss despite protesting noises, then smiles into the skin of Helena's neck as her tongue turns protestations into pleas, and the hands in her hair exert a downward pressure. She licks her way down, to suck and mark the dips along Helena's collarbone, and when she licks at and scrapes teeth gently over a silk covered nipple, Helena moans from deep in her chest before she is reaching down frantically grasping at the edges of Myka's top. Myka helps her, peeling it off to reveal toned stomach and black cotton - they look at each other, and incongruously, they grin - before unclasping and dropping their bras to the floor. A heartbeat. Then they press together, wet open mouthed kisses, firm hands flat on backs, skin to skin. When Helena kisses along Myka's jaw, nips at her earlobe, pushes her hands up underneath her hairline to tickle her neck, Myka grabs at Helena's thighs and lifts. Helena grasps her bare shoulders, dips her mouth into the crook of Myka's neck, mumbling "oh god, your room...nearer..." Myka surprises herself, carrying Helena four steps to the hallway, the five steps to her room, the three steps from doorway to bed, then slowly shuffles Helena down and along it, before kneeling up, straddling Helena's legs. 

She works at the buttons of Helena's jeans, as Helena grabs at Myka's waistband, lowering and pulling, eager to feel skin and tease the dampness below. Myka is drunk with desire, she wants to touch and be touched, and so she shifts forward and above to give Helena a better angle, while working her own hand into restricted space to rub down over moist silk panties. Helena's hips push up urgently, Helena's hand presses up and fingers dip and drag slowly along Myka who whimpers as Helena gasps. In response, Myka pulls her hand away only to dip back down, between silk and soft curls and she _presses_. They become frantic now, delirious, desperate to press, and rub and stroke. They arch into each other, pant into perspiring skin, kiss and suck bone and muscle. Before long they are climbing, straining, keening, as they push each other to the edge and over, undulating, shaking, rasping words they won't remember. Myka falls into Helena, their arms trapped between them, fingers resting, soaked and sated. She finds her head resting on the bed, mouth and nose pressed against Helena's coconut scented hair, and it's only now she realises there is an underlying dampness as if it had been drying following a shower. "I don't think I said good morning" she murmurs, and Helena says, "You are forgiven" then "where did _that_ come from..." 

Myka honestly doesn't know, she wasn't looking for this physical, primal encounter, certainly not last night when she stepped over the threshold. She was unnerved and irritated but then disarmed and relaxed by Helena, there is something about her that has made Myka lose control. She isn't sure if she likes that, but she definitely likes this. This close, sweaty afterglow, her arm now numbing, her face buried in hair, the feel of Helena's chest gently rumbling beneath her when she talks or quietly laughs as she is doing now "My arm...yours must be too..?"  
So they separate themselves carefully, eliciting a deep sigh from Myka as she rolls onto her back. Turning her head to the side, she sees that Helena is gazing at her and so Myka feels her way between them, linking her hand with Helena's in an oddly intimate moment. Feeling her own stickiness on the fingers she realises she has appraised far too much, Myka thinks that this is the first time in eight months that she has been content. To feel this, to offer herself and to take, is overwhelming. Before she can stop it, she feels pinpricks behind her eyes. Before she turns away, Helena has noticed and she turns onto her side, fully facing Myka. The tips of her fingers touch Myka's chin and turn her head back to look in eyes that speak of understanding. "Don't" her voice is low.  
"Don't what?" Myka's voice cracks.  
"...feel guilty" Helena says, and she has read Myka like a book, because that is what she is feeling. She is stunned with this situation and this woman who now caresses her cheek with the back of a hand, and recognises the guilt pervading her senses - for feeling pleasure, for being with someone, and for being alive. Until. Helena stills, and moves to bring her face directly above Myka's. "Don't" she whispers and presses full lips against hers, pushes her tongue along, sucks Myka's bottom lip and bites down, then near the top of her breast bone chews and bites a mark that is at once sweet and stinging. She starts tugging Myka's pants down, and Myka feels her senses shifting, away from the sting in her eyes and towards the pain of marked skin and the tight feeling that is building in her stomach once more.

Helena uncovers her, sheds her own jeans and panties, then places her locket on the side table as Myka watches. Then she moves them both with deliberate slowness, kissing and caressing, until they are under the bed covers, entwined, thighs tight between legs, offering a new kind of friction. Myka can feel skin, heat, dampness, the sweet pain of Helena's rough kisses, the sweet ache of a thigh rocking against her. Thoughts of anything other than these things disappear, as Helena pushes her, teases her, dangles her for as long as she is able until there is nothing but fire spreading out towards the tips of her toes and fingers. When she suddenly drops her arched body, carrying Helena down with it, she hears a grunt of surprise, and a quiet laugh and sigh, "Strong". Myka is still recovering, manages a breathless reply, "I run, and this job can be quite physical", and Helena kisses her "Mmmm well, clearly..." she nods down between them and Myka feels herself blush. Really, blushing. After what they've just done. 

They stay in bed most of the day, after Helena dashes out to grab a light lunch, returning with a tray and cold feet. They doze, they find a slower rhythm their bodies can handle, they lay in silence, but they don't talk. At least, not about anything significant. It's easy, playful, but the things Myka wants to ask, she doesn't. The simple reason being that to ask Helena about her her life away from this bubble would lead to questions about her own. By the time they are forced out of bed through hunger, it's barely 24hrs since they met at gunpoint, and now they have shared a bed and their bodies for a third of that time.

 

**Day 3**

The following day, Myka wakes with Helena spooned behind her, arms wrapped tightly around her body, a leg wedged between her own. There is light peeking through the blinds, and as she reaches to check the time, Helena grumbles "I was _perfectly_ comfortable..."  
"Sorry, habit" Myka whispers, "8am. How long have you been awake?"  
"A few hours" Helena buries her head into Myka's hair, "Habit"  
"I was wondering if spending most of yesterday in bed might have thrown our body clocks off"  
"Mmmm, maybe if we'd spent it sleeping..." Helena's hands have started to wander, caressing Myka's abdomen, then tickling just below her breasts. Myka rolls over to face her, pushes strands of hair behind her ear, places a soft kiss on sleepy lips and wants to continue but some sense of duty nags at her "I should check outside..." Helena pouts, which makes Myka laugh, "Oh ok, is that some kind of secret weapon to keep me in bed?" When Helena smiles wickedly, Myka realises there is no point pretending, she is staying right where she is, and she uncharacteristically throws caution to the wind, pulling Helena close and into a less chaste morning embrace.

By midday, they are up, showered, and have eaten breakfast. Myka puts on her gear and boots and ventures out. It's tough going in the deep snow, but she clears the porch and the path around to the drive. She can see that both Helena's SUV and her own vehicle further down the track are covered in thick snow. They need digging out even though the road is still a no go. She makes the journey down to her truck, retrieves the portable charging unit for her radio and finds another snow shovel in the trunk. When she radios in, Paul is on duty again.  
"Myka, how you doing up there?"  
She smiles, "Fine thanks, I'm just assessing the state of the truck, but the road is solid"  
"Yeah, good news is there's no additional snowfall expected, but there'll be cloud cover overnight and, get this - blue skies tomorrow" he says  
"I’ll hold you to that. I'm going to dig the truck out, and hopefully in next day or so I can head off"  
"Just keep checking in, I hope your host isn't too strange - they must be crazy or stupid staying up there now."  
Myka colours, thinking about Helena in bed "She's been very welcoming, but you're right, this is no place for a vacation at this time of year." 

Paul's outside viewpoint has her thinking, why is Helena there of all places, there are plenty more sensible locations to seek out isolation. Really, Myka knows nothing about her of consequence, but she tells herself that they have only just met. Right on cue, the woman herself appears up by the cabin yelling down, "Tomato soup ok?!" Myka gives her a thumbs up then finishes talking to Paul before heading back up to the cabin. Helena meets her at the edge of the cleared path and hands her a thermal mug "Any news?" she asks, sipping at her own soup. "I'd say a few days and the roads will be passable, if slow going" Myka eyes Helena's SUV, "How long had you planned to stay?"  
Helena's face is covered by her scarf, but her eyes give off that impassive air she is so adept at, and before she can respond, Myka jumps in, fearing she sounds overbearing. "I just meant, if you needed to be elsewhere, you might struggle...I wasn't..."  
Helena touches her arm "Myka, I've enough food for over a week, the snow is of little importance until then" then she leans in, pulling her scarf down, and kisses her cheek, "Aside from how long it can keep you from your duties, that is..."

Myka blushes, but she feels oddly foolish, so picks up the shovel, gestures back down the track, "Ok..well I'll just go dig out the...so it's done...I'll do yours afterwards." She turns, heads back down and proceeds to exert a lot of energy clearing the snow that has packed under and around and on top of her truck. It takes her over an hour and she aches, her hands are numb, but her mind has been a frenzy. This whole situation should be simple, her life was meant to be less complicated in this job. She wasn't meant to be stranded with someone who has permeated the barrier she's been building gradually over the months. She isn't meant to feel flirtatious, she isn't meant to want something so badly she loses self control, and she wasn't meant to feel a connection like this. Helena is a mystery, she's a closed book, and for Myka that is intriguing even though her natural curiosity and eye for detail feels dulled and out of practice. It’s partly why, in spite of herself she knows that when she returns to the cabin she will continue on this uncertain path, without knowing what is truly behind those mesmerising eyes. However long she is stranded, or however long Helena is staying, she wants this. She'd felt a fool earlier because she didn't want Helena to think she was prying or over eager. But then what else have they been but over eager, it has been exhilarating. 

She's thinking about new ways to be eager with Helena as she makes her back, intending to force her body to shovel more snow from around the SUV. But - there is Helena making a valiant attempt with the other shovel. Lost in her task, Myka hadn't noticed she had remained outside, so she walks up and starts to dig in an area yet to be touched. Helena looks up, grimaces, and they continue in silence for another half hour before they meet in the middle. "Bloody hell, I can see why you are so fit!" Helena pants, "I am absolutely ravenous now..." Myka smiles widely, and drags Helena behind her and up to the warmth of the cabin, content that her own perceived awkwardness from earlier is forgotten. Stepping through the doorway is like blocking out the world, ignoring consequences. Leaving their gear to dry, she pulls Helena into a hot shower (“You can wait a little longer for food…? Good..”) and proceeds to calm her overactive mind with a keenness to physically please and be pleased. Helena has been quieter than usual all afternoon, but it makes her no less intense, if anything it is as if she is grasping at everything she can, while she can, and maybe that is ok by Myka. It doesn’t require thought, she knows this will end in days and she will not have to deal with consequences.

 

**Day 4**

It’s a waiting game now, but the wait is getting shorter. Soon, she will have to drag herself out of this bed for a final time and go back to reality. Right now, though, she is revelling in the warmth of overused sheets and the smell of sex mixed with coconut. Helena is resting her head on Myka’s stomach, as Myka smooths down her hair and plays with the fingers that loosely rest on her hip. “At this moment I would welcome another blizzard” Helena murmurs so quietly that Myka only just catches it, but she does, and it sounds like regret. She links their fingers now, and makes light, “I’m not sure I could endure having to dig the cars out again” she says, and Helena chuckles, “No, me neither.”  
Myka’s mind drifts to the trailer outside, “You ride a motorcycle?” she asks.  
“I do”  
“Not much chance of using it in these parts…”  
“No” Helena says, and Myka suspects this topic is a little close to their unspoken agreement not to dig too deeply. But then Helena surprises her, pulls herself up so her head is resting on the pillow “I enjoy it, on the open road it helps clear my head. Oh, and a bike is very nippy around a city” she winks and leans over, licks Mykas bottom lip, nibbles it. Myka tries to resist, “So have you always ridden?” she manages between kisses. “No, I took it up not long after settling in the U.S. It was a...” she hesitates, “...a friend who encouraged me.” Now, Helena doesn’t allow Myka to press further because she adjusts her position so that she is above her, hair falling over them both as she captures Myka’s hands and places them on the pillow above her head. “It’s a shame I don’t have my leathers packed…” she says with a smirk, “I’ve a feeling you might appreciate me in them.”  
“Oh, I like you just fine out of them too” Myka’s mouth has gone dry at the thought, and allows herself to be distracted once more. 

Later that afternoon as the sky darkens outside, they are sprawled on the couch, blanket over them and a low fire in the grate. That afternoon they have been out again, to clear the trail down to the road which looks less treacherous following a few bright days and a slight rise in temperature. Myka is fairly confident that either of their vehicles will cope with the roads by tomorrow. Right now she is reading but finds herself glancing up occasionally at Helena who is scribbling in a notebook. She thinks back to the night she stumbled into this situation and a sudden thought occurs “Would you have used it…if you needed to? The gun, I mean.”  
Helena attempts a joke, “Of course darling...crack shot don’t you know”  
Myka stays silent, and in doing so is asking the question again. Helena, quite archly, now says “If you are wondering whether I have shot anyone before, the answer is no” then a sigh, “...but I have fired a gun in anger.”  
Myka wasn’t expecting even this, and now she wants to know what the circumstances were, but she bites her tongue and remains silent. “In my line of work, a little protection is often required” Helena offers, and Myka knows she was right - Helena can certainly handle herself and a confession slip out of her own mouth “Mine too”. When Helena looks at her quizzically, Myka wonders if she has visions of her trying to fend off a wild bear and she laughs softly, eliciting an even more puzzled expression. 

Something about Helena’s relative openness is making Myka’s tongue loosen, or maybe she just thinks that if she shares, then Helena will too. “I’m a Ranger now, but I wasn’t always, and I won’t be in future.” As she says this, she feels Helena stiffen briefly before relaxing, though her eyes betray nothing. It was a tiny reaction, one most people would have missed, but it was there. “Ok” Helena says carefully, “So you are taking a break from something else?”  
“I’m trying to break free of my dreams” Myka says without thinking, but Helena startles her by uttering a single word “Sam?”. Myka freezes, her eyes slam shut to fend off her emotions. "I’m sorry” Helena quickly says, dropping her notebook to the floor and reaching out a hand to touch Myka's thigh “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...your nightmare…”  
“I said his name?” Myka whispers, and Helena nods. Myka opens her eyes, sits up straighter, deliberately breathes slowly and Helena shifts too, gives her some space. Myka glances at her and it’s the first time she has seen pure emotion on her face, she looks pained. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” she’s murmuring again, and Myka is suddenly not sure if Helena is speaking to her, because her hand has unconsciously reached for her locket.  
“Helena” Myka pulls her so that she moves closer again.  
“I was insensitive” her mood has darkened, and Myka has not seen this side of her so strongly before, she is admonishing herself. So Myka opens up, tries to explain. She talks about Sam for the first time in many months. “I loved him. I loved him and I blame myself for his death” she breathes out, coughs out a short nervous noise, and Helena takes hold of her hand tightly. It prompts Myka to look at her, and she sees...empathy...before Helena looks away, down. “I’ve not said that in a while..." Myka continues. "We were partners on a case, but it was so much more than we realised and by the time I found out, it was too late. I was too late." 

She relays how they had been monitoring a protection racket, gathering evidence, identifying the main players. Then, one morning Sam had left her apartment after staying the night, on an errand he said. He had kissed her goodbye and forgotten the phone he'd left charging by the bed. They'd arranged to meet at their usual stakeout spot later that morning, but Myka received a call from their superior as she was leaving the apartment, Sam's phone in her pocket. The 'protection racket' had been identified as one of a number of funding operations for domestic terrorists, the FBI were taking over, she and Sam were to pull back from the case with immediate effect. She couldn't call him, so she'd driven with purpose and parked up a block down from the bakery where the operation was based. As she had approached, she’d seen him from afar, leaving the coffee shop opposite and had felt a moment of relief, a fleeting moment to commit to memory. Then she realised he was on high alert and heading straight across the road, reaching his hand in to where she knew his holster would be. She'd instinctively felt for her own weapon, started to jog as she saw that there was a commotion in the bakery. The world seemed to slow, the same words running through her head _'have you called for backup Sam, please wait for backup'_. It hadn't mattered, back up or not, anyone close enough was caught in the blast that suddenly ripped through the building, Myka had fell behind a parked car, Sam had been too close and in the aftermath she'd found him half buried in rubble. 

Should they have recognised the cell for what it was, should she have driven faster, should she have called a patrol, should she have shouted as she watched Sam move towards his death. She had blamed herself, and still does in darker moments. As her Captain and the police psychiatrist she met with pointed out - she couldn't have known that such a rare event was about to happen. Sam had disregarded protocol as was often his wont, he had arrived earlier than agreed so was alone, it was a tragic set of circumstances - wrong place wrong time. It hurt, she loved him, he had charmed her with his easy way and had made her feel comfortable in her own skin. He was not like her, he would often look beyond procedure and so they complimented each other’s style. Professionally, that had been his downfall, and for all Myka's own compulsion to stick to the rules, it had made no difference in the end. 

"That was eight months ago. As you discovered, it haunts me" Myka says quietly, "I'm on secondment, I needed to get away from the city. No-one knew about our relationship, well, aside from the Captain it seems....Sam had been living apart from his wife for over a year when I met him, and then they were going through a divorce, you see..." she puffs out a huge sigh, then she shakes her head, “I don’t even know why I am telling you all this, you don’t need to know.” Helena is still for a long while before she speaks. "All of us carry guilt of some kind...no one is blameless...it's how we cope that marks us out...for good or bad."  
"I dont feel like I've coped at all." Myka says.  
"You knew to take yourself away, you are not a mess, Myka you are strong," she drops to a whisper " _You_ are strong."  
"I was at my lowest point when I came back here..."  
Helena takes Myka's face in her warm hands, " _You are strong_."

Myka feels calmed by Helena's soft words of reassurance, and strangely relieved to have told someone else, someone removed from it all. Myka doesn’t know what or who Helena is, she can't call her a stranger, she doesn't know what to call her. She understands, Myka knows there is something that haunts her too, she has seen glimpses of grief and a capacity for fury and it makes her wonder how strong Helena was. Helena still holds her face, and she kisses her softly before dropping down on the couch, opening her arms for Myka to fall down into them.  
"I should learn not to ask questions" Myka says into the bunched cotton of Helena's top "...it's a blessing and a curse."  
Helena just kisses the top of her head, remains silent and holds her tight, and before long they have both drifted off to sleep.

When Myka wakes, it’s to the sound of the cabin door opening, then closing again a minute later, before Helena appears, wrapped up and carrying a sack of firewood. Myka watches her carefully place the wood in the metal box by the fireplace, “You’re awake” Helena says without turning. Myka sits up, now wrapped in a blanket “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”  
“Only sometimes” Helena is looking at her now, face pink from the cold and when she smiles Myka feels herself sway. “I think I need drink” she says and Helena nods, then fetches her a glass of water. “A shower might do you good, or a bath?”  
That idea is welcomed by Myka, who is disappointed when Helena doesn’t join her, but when she emerges from the bathroom there is a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen and there are two places set at the table in the centre. They eat, drink and chat about literature and about cultural differences, but still avoid deliberate questions about each other. A bottle of wine later they end up on the large armchair by the fire. They are fumbling at each other’s clothes, they are silent and intense. Then Myka is saying Helena’s name and Helena is saying Myka’s, and suddenly it feels beyond intimate as they push against each other and collapse, holding tight. That night they sleep in Myka’s bed again, they just sleep and Myka thinks _this is different_.

 

**Day 5**

Cold sheets. Her fingers clench into cold sheets, her lids are heavy but she forces them open to mid morning rays of light. It’s quiet. She stretches and wonders if Helena is making tea, or has gone to check the weather. She pulls herself out of bed, throws on the robe she’s been using and heads out of the bedroom. Helena is not in the lounge or kitchen, but Myka notices that only her own coat and boots are at the doorway. In fact, she doesn't see anything of Helena's. She feels her stomach clench as she moves to the side window, and when she looks out there is a clear view across to trees, because Helena's car and trailer are gone. 

She walks back to where Helena's bedroom is. She realises that she has never actually been in this room, it crosses her mind that it's the only place they didn't have sex. So, when she pushes the door open she has no memory of what to expect, but she thinks she knows now. It is spotless, the bed is made, the wardrobe door is open and empty, there is a note folded on top of a set of drawers, a key lays on top. 

_Myka_  
_The past few days have been truly intoxicating, but duty calls, and I fear that outside of this retreat you would see me in a very different light. I hope you find a reprieve from your dreams._  
_Helena_  
_p.s. The key hides in the wood store._  


Myka closes her eyes tightly, the rush of emotion she feels is shocking to her, she feels sick inside, she feels abandoned and she feels a fool. Later, she is driven by anger as she returns her own room to its original state, empties the fridge and leaves the cabin as it should be. She locks up and puts the key in its hiding place, before heading down to her truck. She radios base to tell them she is heading back to the nearest station, and when she clicks the radio silent she is left reeling by another piece of information. Paul had managed to contact the cabin owner that morning, Nielsen had no recollection of renting it out this week or any time over winter. Two Rangers had been about to head up there when Myka called in, and Paul chastised her for not having her radio on at all times. Myka sits there, gloved hands gripping the steering wheel, until she laughs a hollow laugh - so much for being one of the best detectives in her division, judgement had abandoned her in the presence of that face, those eyes, that hair, those hands and what they did to her. As she drives away, she tries not to think about the physical reaction she felt when she saw that note.

The next time Myka encounters Helena, it is under very different circumstances. 

\-------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This originally started as an idea for a one shot to practice writing, errr, 'mature' content. Then I started to think about what would happen if they met up again, in the real world, and it grew.


	2. Eight months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective Bering has been back from secondment for six months, with a new partner and a surprise just around the corner.

**July 2014**

Myka sat behind the wheel of their unmarked sedan, absently twisting a curl of damp hair that had fallen loose at her neck. She jotted down notes in a small lined pad using a pen she'd received as a gift from her father. She had an excellent memory, and she found that writing witness interviews up herself was preferable to the messy scrawl he produced. When she'd returned to duty six months ago, transferring from Denver to the Colorado Springs detective division, she'd been partnered with Pete Lattimer. She knew him in passing via a few statewide cases, and her impression had been of a loud, brash individual, a 'man cave' type. She was right about the man cave, but over the months she discovered that behind the bold exterior there was a sensitive soul and a very good detective. At first he'd tried to win her over with his charm and jovial nature, but it had grated. Eventually, though, it was the work itself that sealed their partnership. Myka's eye for detail, her memory and knowledge combined with his excellent instinct and ability to imagine less conventional scenarios, meant in their short time together they had notched up a great success rate. She didn't like to admit it, but he did have a certain charm, and it reminded her a little of Sam. Pete hadn't known Sam, but she knew Captain Frederic would have filled him in a little on why his new partner had taken a timeout, and she was grateful that his intuition had told him not to pursue it any further.

The car door opened, sucking in a puff of hot air, and Pete flopped into his seat, placing two iced coffees on the armrest between them. He takes a huge bite from the donut he's holding, and hands a savoury pretzel to Myka.  
"It's soooo hot already" he whines  
"Pete, it's almost August"  
"Hmmm, I'm giving this a seven" he mumbles, ignoring her common sense answer, examining his now half eaten donut.  
"Reasons?" she says, in what has now become a ritual.  
"Loses points for being slightly over baked, and not quite big enough. Tasty though."  
She nods, smiling. Ask him which are the best street vendors and bakeries and you wouldn't go far wrong.  
"I'm not convinced by our witness" she says, turning to business, "He kept looking over our shoulders at the clock. Not sure it was necessary when the shop only opened at 9am"  
"We gonna stick here for a while, see who shows?"  
"Yeah, just a hunch." She shrugs  
"Ha, Myka Bering having a hunch?" he nudges her, "I must be rubbing off on you"  
"Hey! I have hunches, I just like them to be backed up with evidence" she scolds  
He holds his hands up "Okay, okay...I know that..." but he laughs.

The witness in question has a business on the outskirts of Larkspur, north of Colorado Springs, and it's where they are when an urgent call for assistance comes through on the radio. A federal prison van has been involved in an incident on the 105, it's unclear what the situation is as the driver has stopped responding. They look at each other as they throw their seat belts on and Myka puts the car in gear - they are 5-10 minutes away from the location. As they speed along they speculate why a federal transport would use this particular backroad, it's not part of the usual routes, "Maybe that was the point" Pete says.  
It's a quiet route, and Myka notices just the one green transit pass them on the opposite side. A few minutes later, they come out of a wide bend and realise two things. This is a major incident, and they are first on scene. "That van we passed, it had a logo - a faucet, possibly a plumbing business..." she mutters half to Pete, half to herself, though their priority has to be the scene. As Myka slows, bringing the car to a stop about 20 metres back, Pete picks up the radio to relay what is before them, ascertain if there is medical assistance already en route and advice there may be witnesses or suspects who have fled. The prison van has run off the road into a pylon, the passenger side door is open, a guard lays unmoving on the pavement and the rear doors are flung wide, any prisoners appear to have fled.

Myka unclips her Smith & Wesson, she feels uneasy but senses any danger has passed "Let's do a sweep." They approach carefully, weapons raised, Myka walking in a loop from the road and Pete along the curb towards the front of the vehicle. Myka treads carefully, there are tyre marks and broken glass in the road but she can see that the prisoner compartment is empty, so she signals to Pete who scampers the last few steps to the guard on the floor. Myka circles round the other side, and finds the driver slumped forward against the steering wheel. She steps up on the plate and opens the door, checks for a pulse, and it's there, faint. "Mine's alive, blow to the head" Pete calls through the open passenger side door. "Good. That's good, mine too, alive. Looks like he radioed it in before passing out" she yells and pulls out her mobile to update dispatch, though she thinks she can already hear the faint sound of sirens.  
Hopping down, she surveys the scene in more detail "This was no accident" she says grimly to Pete. "There's a single sneaker in the back, somebody is walking around with the other one. We need to know who was being transported, and why the hell they weren't being escorted."  
"Could be low risk prisoners, cutbacks Myka. You know, they don't escort every van now"  
She shakes her head, "Low risk, yet I'm pretty sure this was a break out, there was another vehicle involved...that green transit...there are flecks of green on the side of this van" she blows out in frustration. "It passed us, goddammit"  
"You've called it in though, right. The CSIs will get on it. There may be footage from the van cameras or the road." Myka nods, says "The guards, too, we should follow them to the hospital" but she is frustrated that they have probably missed the fleeing offenders by minutes.

\---

When the CSIs arrive, Pete and Myka go over their own movements before leaving for the hospital. On the way, they learn that the van was transporting two prisoners down into Springs - thirty-two year old Marcus Diamond to an appeal hearing, and twenty-one year old Todd Nolan to testify in a current case. After requesting information on the route be forwarded, Myka ended the call. "The Assistant District Attorney has an interest in Diamond, she was the original prosecutor" Myka says, "He has known criminal links, Nolan however is a loner, a hacker - appearing as a witness in a corporate fraud trial"  
"So the odds are on Diamond as the intended escapee" Pete is finishing off the pretzel Myka never touched.  
"Yeah, the odds..." Myka chews her lip, "but heading to an appeal?"  
"Wouldn't do any harm to chat with ADA St Clair" he says, "May be a while before we can talk to the guards..." Myka agrees, and so they call ahead then divert to the District Attorney's office. 

Rebecca St Clair has a reputation as a superb worker of a court, and passionate advocate for victim rights. An immaculately dressed redhead, she is polite and unassuming, clearly her way of putting people at ease. Her office on the second floor is modern, the walls adorned with dramatic photography of Colorado landscapes. Myka's eye darts toward a snowy mountain scene to the left of the desk "That's Rocky Mountain Park, one of my favourite places" ADA St Clair says.  
"I know it well" Myka chooses not to mention her recent secondment. Although she has returned clearer headed, taking significant steps forward from her grief and guilt, her time there created other bittersweet memories. "As we mentioned to your assistant, ADA St Clair, we are here about Marcus Diamond"  
"Call me Rebecca" she smiles easily, but it's swiftly followed by a frown "Yes...I was about to head over to court when I heard, I wanted to be there for this particular hearing."  
Myka nods, "At this moment it's unclear what happened, so we are looking for indicators. Can you give us a bit of background on him, his case? Neither myself or Detective Lattimer were stationed here back then."  
The ADA settles back in her chair, rolling a pencil between her fingers. "His crimes were committed in the January of 2010, the trial that August. I must start by saying that the appeal is...unfortunate, shall we say." She places the pencil down on her desk, "The case against Diamond was absolutely solid, the fact that the Detective in charge at the time, Aquino, is now being indicted for malpractice has no bearing on that." She sighs, but her words bring Pete to life.  
"Just to be clear, by malpractice, you mean planting evidence, taking bribes..?" His mouth twists in distaste. At her nod, he turns to Myka, "Aquino worked in Springs when I started, since moved on. Never liked the guy."  
Myka says "But it's enough grounds for appeal, whether it's successful or not." She turns back to Rebecca, "Armed robbery and manslaughter?"  
"Yes, fourteen year sentence, the minimum he could receive. Considering the case, we were not happy with the judge." At their questioning look, she elaborates. "He was the ringleader in a bank robbery, his two accomplices received fatal injuries when a guard surprised them." She pauses, with a rueful shake of her head, "Diamond escaped, not before he'd killed a child." It's bluntly put, and both Pete and Myka flinch. "A single blow to the head, an angry, violent lashing out. Her mother..." she trails off.  
Pete pulls his lips tight across his teeth, "He sounds like a real piece of work...I imagine he has plenty of criminal associations, we'll check Intel, but were there any particularly strong links at the time of his trial?"  
"You know who all roads lead to in this city, detectives" she looks pointedly at them.  
"Sykes" they say in unison, and she nods, her mouth in a firm line.  
"That is one of the reasons I wanted to be at the hearing. There's talk that Diamond may have decided to finally use that as a bargaining chip, should his appeal go South, but I don't buy it"  
"As in why now, and not when he was arrested?" Myka reasons  
"Precisely" Rebecca says, "I'm sure Sykes will have people on the inside of the penitentiary, plus, well, at the time Diamond was very set, he would not budge so either very loyal, well compensated or very aware that his own life would be at stake if he gave over information. Why should that have changed?"  
"And yet he still came out with a lenient sentence...a child" Myka glances out the window, and a thought comes to her "The mother, you..."  
"She won't be happy that he's on the loose" Rebecca grimaces, then her expression changes, it's almost fond, before Myka's phone starts to ring. She looks apologetically and nods at Pete to carry on as she gets up and moves to the window to take the call.  
"Detective Bering"  
"Detective, it's Officer Jacks at the hospital. One of the guards is conscious, the docs are happy for you to talk with him" he pauses, "The other is not so lucky, he's in a coma at present, being monitored"  
"Thank you, Officer, we'll be right over" Myka sighs, and looks over at Pete who is shaking Rebecca's hand and turning.  
"The hospital?" He says, and she nods, "Let's see if we can shed some light on this"

\---

It's late afternoon when they are sat waiting to speak to the now conscious guard, and Myka is hating every minute, the smell, the sounds, the broad spectrum of misery, relief and devastation. It reminds her of being a gangly twelve year old, dragged every day to the hospital where her younger sister was being treated following a hit and run. Her stern Police Sergeant father wouldn't allow her to stay at friends 'having fun', while her sister was suffering through recovery and he was working all the overtime possible to supplement their insurance. Myka understood Tracy might need her, and she helped in all the ways she could, picking out her sister's favourite books and teddies, but Myka was effectively cut off from her friends for two months over that summer and she resented it. The fact that almost 18 months ago she'd been stood in a very similar place, watching as Sam's estranged wife arrived to formally identify his body, is something she pushes to the far corners of her mind.

"Detective....Myka..." She realises Pete is talking to her, and snaps out of her memories "Sorry, right, we good to go?"  
"Yep, the driver is Mitchell Davies, forty-two, he's worked fifteen years in the prison service, clean record, no debts, lives alone"  
Myka gives him an appraising look, "You've been busy"  
"Not just a pretty face, ya know" he gives her an affronted look, "The other guard is Tommy Baxter, twenty-seven, just three years service. He has a girlfriend and a young kid."  
Myka nods "Ok, well depending on what happens in the next day or so we may talk to her?"  
"Definitely" Pete says.

Mitchell Davies is a portly man with ruddy cheeks and beady eyes, while the information he provides is useful but incomplete. When they head back into the mid-80s heat, Myka fans herself with a leaflet she picked up on the way out for that specific purpose. "So, deserted road, he recalls passing the green transit parked up and a few minutes down the road it's overtaking him. Except it's not, it's ramming him across the road" she says, starting their regular method of talking through the facts to hypothesise and identify their next move. Pete purses his lips, "Those vans are pretty hefty, so whoever is driving has got to know what they're doing, but he thinks he heard a gunshot so maybe they took a tyre out, need to check that with forensics."  
Myka continues, "So he veers off the road, straight into the pylon. He thinks Tommy hit his head on the side window, but he stumbles out of the van anyway, there's a scuffle and then a minute later a helmeted figure dressed in leathers climbs up into the passenger side, gun pointing at Mitchell, and punches the emergency release for the rear doors." She motions as she's talking through the guard's recall of the events, calculating, identifying questions. "They knew exactly what they needed to do" she says.  
"So out of the wing mirror he sees our biker friend apparently conversing with Diamond who is keeled over on the floor, then a few minutes later the sound of a motorcycle revving and he sees it turning in the road, heading north, Diamond in the rear seat."  
"So, two perps? One in the green van, the other on a bike" she says, "...but then Todd Nolan, where is he?"  
"We need any CCTV the techs can get us" Pete jumps in the driver side of their car, "Let's check in with them."

It's gone 5pm when they arrive at the labs where the techs processing the incident have started to collate evidence.  
"Abigail! Tell me you have cracked the case and those two are back behind bars" Pete cajoles, as he picks up one of many photographs of tyre prints laid out on the table.  
"Lattimer, even _I'm_ not that good!" She gives him a disappointed look, then turns to Myka, "But we may have some very interesting information for you by morning...Liam here has also just returned from processing the green transit - which was found abandoned five miles from the scene."  
Myka rolls her eyes, "I asked uniform to let me know of any developments straight away"  
"Well, in truth, what you need to know now, we have it here. If you need to, you can get a feel for the location later..." Myka smiles at Abigail's no nonsense approach, and looks at the three photographs the CSI tech is now holding up. "Three sets of tracks, the prison van, the green transit, a motorcycle. It would appear from the evidence that the motorcycle was probably inside the transit to start with, and just used as the getaway."  
Pete shuffles along, takes a look at the motorcycle tracks, "Can you get a make?"  
"We are working on that" Liam says from the PC terminal, "The green van is a Ford, belonging to a Denver firm. Johnson  & Sons Plumbing, reported stolen early this morning so most likely taken overnight."  
"So, this could actually be the one perp..." Myka muses, "We have Nolan to consider also. It's possible he used the transit to make a run for it. Two unconnected escapes?"  
"Yeah, Mitchell Davies said that he and Diamond didn't show any signs of recognition at all when they put Nolan into the van" Pete rubs his chin, still holding the tyre photograph, "Maybe the kid got lucky...and made the wrong choice"  
Liam smiles "Well, I did find a second red sneaker in the van...so that seems a logical conclusion"  
"I love it when evidence and supposition meet in the middle" Pete winks at Myka whose eyes narrow in response.  
"We'll have footage from two cameras by morning, I'll give you a call when we have something to show you" Abigail says, shrugging, "that's all we've got so far."  
Pete nudges Myka, "Let's get something to eat, fresh start in the morning."  
Myka rubs the back of her neck, she knows he's right, it's hot, it's been a long day and they can do little without more to go on. She nods, eating out with Pete is preferable to heading back to her apartment alone before 8pm. "Well we have APB's out on Todd and Marcus so maybe something will come of that in the meantime" she says.

\---

At 11:10am the following morning they are back at the CSI lab about to watch footage of the prison van bust. "Before we start" Abigail grins "here's something that could be key..."  
Liam brings up a chart on screen, and they lean over to view it, "This is a chemical compound, we took a sample at the scene, a minute amount was dried on the pavement. It's a sedative."  
"What are you saying?" Pete queries, but Myka has jumped ahead. "It wasn't a rescue, it was an abduction?"  
"Watch..." Abigail draws their attention to a different screen.  
Myka is pleased to see that the footage confirms most of their theories of how it went down. The green van runs the prison transport off the road, and a helmeted figure emerges to open the rear doors of the transit and roll out a motorcycle, before seeing the first guard stumble from the van. The figure purposefully walks over, pointing a weapon, then they hit the guard to the ground before taking something from their belt, probably keys. After jumping up into the van, as the driver had said, the figure goes to the rear and cautiously opens the doors wide. From the grainy footage, they can see a figure sprawled, unmoving, on the floor of the van, while a second, Marcus Diamond jumps out and drops to his knees alongside the vehicle. The biker stands above him for around 45 seconds before taking his cuffs off and throwing the keys to the floor. Diamond stands, seemingly a little unsteady on his feet, and pulls himself onto the rear seat of the motorcycle. What happens next appears to indicate that Diamond was abducted, not rescued. The biker moves behind him smoothly, holding a syringe they have pulled from a zip in the arm of their leather jacket, then they administer it quickly to his neck. They hold him up, get on the bike and tie him to them about the waist, his head slumped over their shoulder. Liam pauses the screen at this point. "Look at the size difference" he says, "Diamond is 6ft 3, but our biker is around 5ft 7, maybe 8? Also, small build, and they way they move..."  
"Female" Myka concludes, but Pete whistles, and he has a look on his face that Myka recognises. He has a theory, a potentially far fetched theory, but probably one worth hearing. "What is is?" she says, fixing him with her eyes to ensure he doesn't stray off his line of thought. "It may be nothing" he squints, "but when you were on the phone to the hospital yesterday, the mentioned the mother of the child who Diamond killed. It's H.G.Wells"  
Myka cocks her head to the side, looks at him like he's lost his marbles, "What?"  
"H.G.Wells, 'H.G.' she's a...bounty hunter, mainly out of Nevada, but has been known to operate in Colorado. You guys?" Pete looks at Abigail and Liam who shrug. Pete sighs, "Ok, fair enough. I've met her a couple of times since I moved to the state, once literally pursuing the same target..."  
"But you are police, you have precedence there" Myka says incredulously  
"Ha, yes, correct!" He says emphatically, "Tell that to some of the less scrupulous skip tracers. Anyway, it was her daughter, who was killed by Marcus Diamond."  
"I'm not seeing the connection, Pete" Myka says  
"She rides a motorcycle" he says, and Myka's head lifts up, "Ah, ok _that's_ interesting" she agrees, impressed with Pete’s reasoning.  
“If it is her, then who could blame her...” Liam mutters, “If he was gettin’ out early”  
His three colleagues say nothing, who knows what they would feel in that position.  
"We need to talk to the Captain about this" Pete says, breaking the silence "She and H.G.Wells usual bail bondsman go way back, I think it would be a good idea" he says.

Once they are ready, Abigail unpauses the screen. As the motorcycle leaves, the figure in the prison van moves, this is Todd Nolan and he looks jittery. He jumps down and goes straight for the abandoned keys to undo his own cuffs, before stuffing them both in his pocket. One-shoed, he heads straight for the green van, flings the rear doors shut and gets in the front. The keys have clearly been left in the ignition, because moments later he's driving it the opposite way to the bike. "We were so close!" Myka exclaims, throwing up her hands in frustration, before calming herself with a brush down of her shirt. "So now we know, Nolan has opportunistically escaped, Diamond appears to have been kidnapped."  
"We'll go over this and other items and let you know of anything important" Abigail says, "But the full preliminary report should be available by the end of tomorrow."  
"Thanks Abigail" Myka looks at Pete, "Precinct to see the Captain?" 

\---

Captain Frederic is not a woman to be trifled with. She is old school, and Myka loves that about her because she is all about procedure and evidence. Her detectives are required to provide solid leads, but she is not so inflexible that she isn't willing to listen to a theory - if it is grounded in knowledge of the people and places involved. Myka and Pete are sat opposite her while she ponders what they have said. "I can see, Detective Lattimer, why you have identified Wells as a possible suspect. However, can I ask you something?" and she asks, "You've met her a few times, what was your impression?"  
"Irritating, cocky, but very good at what she does. But like you say, Captain, a few times, so..." he shrugs.  
"Yes, but a fair summation I'd say, if not the whole picture..." she picks up her phone, "but _'very good at what she does'_ is key. I'm not sure Wells would leave so obvious a trail to her door." She starts to dial, "But you should question her."  
Myka and Pete look at each other, perform a mental fist bump, and listen as their Captain speaks to Artie Nielsen, the bail bondsman who Wells usually works for. When she places the phone back in it’s stand, she jots a name on a post-it, "Remember the reason Marcus Diamond was in prison. It's also the reason she does what she does." Captain Frederic pauses, "Nielsen says she's currently chasing a fraudster who skipped bail five days ago."  
Myka raises an eyebrow as she reads the note, this Wells sounds an interesting character, and from the note, the bounty hunter just happens to be staying in a hotel in the north of Colorado Springs itself. “I know this hotel” she says, “It’s one of the more reputable ones.”  
“A bounty hunter with taste, then” Pete drawls, but Myka pushes her point home “It’s not the sort of place where suspicious comings and goings would go unnoticed” she says.  
“If the price is right...anyone can turn a blind eye” Pete counters with a rub of his thumb and forefinger and Myka concedes he is right. 

Captain Frederic pulls their attention back with a gentle cough, and steeples her fingers together. “So, Todd Nolan?” she asks. When she’d arrived back at her apartment last night, Myka was conscious she and Pete had fixated on Diamond, and so she’d checked in with the officers assigned to monitor the home of Nolan’s parents. Then, she’d logged on to familiarise herself with the case he was due to testify in. Nolan was a graduate in computer science at the University of Denver, a loner who had systematically hacked into the systems of eight major corporations across the state, syphoning off funds amounting to almost a quarter of a million dollars. He’d been caught when one of said corporations was investigated separately for tax evasion and fraud. He'd been due to testify in that case when he decided to commandeer the vehicle used to run his transport to court off the road. There had been no sign of him at his parents, but officers had been tasked with talking to any University associates he may contact. Uniformed officers were on alert cross state now, but now that the first 24hrs had passed, both prisoners were likely untraceable for now. 

Myka gives the Captain her assessment, that Diamond is the priority due to his past crimes, but that they won't lose sight of Todd Nolan. "He could have useful information about the incident itself" Myka suggests, "But he may be a tricky one to locate, given his talents."  
"Hey, we should ask Wells about that, I'm sure she'd have some tricks up her sleeve" Pete quips, earning a patient stare from Captain Frederic and a stoic silence from his partner. Then Myka clears her throat, preparing to broach a delicate subject, “Captain I don’t understand why no appeal has been made in the press....” she rubs at her neck, “..the potential danger to the public, and any advantage we may have gained…” Pete has dropped his head, looks up nervously, he agrees with her, but the wrath of Captain Frederic is usually low on his to do list. The Captain’s lips are pursed, “Detective, I cannot say whether an appeal would have proved fruitful.” She stands, walks to the window, “Not informing the press of an incident is not unheard of, but I grant, it would not have been my choice in this case.”  
Myka glances at Pete and he shakes his head, but she persists, “It’s been 24hrs...I think it would be useful...”  
“Yes, I am working on it” Captain Frederic turns, looking over the top of her glasses, “Keep me informed of developments.”  
As they leave her office, Pete nudges Myka's elbow, “What was that about?"  
“Just asking the question, Pete, don’t you think it’s odd, no descriptions released to the public?”  
“I don't agree with it, but I think it’s politics, like I said...budget cuts...ask your dad.”  
Myka glares at him, and he holds his hands up, “Sorry…sorry” he says and forcibly lightens his tone. “You know, I was only half joking back there, these bounty hunters are great at getting under the skin of a perp, got more patience than me too!" Myka rolls her eyes at his habit of getting under _her_ skin then pulling her mood back around, "Most people have more patience than you, Lattimer. Come on, we have a date with H.G.Wells."

The hotel is in a decent part of town, and as Myka said, it was no seedy stopover location. It was a complex, including apartment style accommodation as well as regular rooms, a pool, and a laundromat. It was here that H.G.Wells was staying, unit twelve on the ground floor, the receptionist said. She remembered Wells checking in because “she wanted a parking slot right outside for her bike, oh and she was smokin' hot”. Myka arches her brow, frowning at this comment, but Pete just nods in agreement and earns a dig in the ribs when they exit the building "Ouch! She's not wrong though..." Myka wonders how she puts up with Pete sometimes, but then as they approach number twelve - on a row facing the boundary fencing and close to the complex exit - she realises she is about to discover one of the reasons why. He will always have her back, even if he has no clue why he needs to. They see the motorcycle straight away, a black and chrome cruiser behind which someone is bent low, their arm resting on the seat. They are metres away when H.G.Wells looks up over the seat, and Myka's breath catches in her throat. She is looking into the eyes of someone who, eight months ago, she spent four intense days and nights with, a woman who owned a motorcycle, a woman who had disappeared into a cold December dawn.


	3. Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So H.G.Wells is also Helena, and Myka must deal with that in the context of their investigation. We learn a little about Helena's past.

Myka was dumbstruck, she stood still, unconsciously palming her hip, wiping the clammy feeling from her hand. Pete gave her a curious look before closing the distance between them and the now standing H.G.Wells....Helena. Whom for her part held Myka's eyes, lingering for a heartbeat before switching her gaze to Pete. "Detective...?" she says with a hint of recognition, and that voice confirms to Myka that her eyes aren't mistaken. Unconsciously, a decision was made in those few moments to not to acknowledge their past acquaintance. It doesn’t sit well with Myka, but that single spoken word serves to spur her into movement, she thrusts trembling hands into her trouser pockets and strides forward to stand alongside Pete.  
"Lattimer. You must remember stealing my suspect at the airport?" He says sternly.  
Helena smirks "I never forget a face" and turns her eyes to Myka as she says this, prompting Pete, "This is Detective Bering."  
Myka nods, somehow manages a calm, cool acknowledgment "Ms Wells", before this woman throws her off balance, again.  
"Bering...a rare name...the Mayor...is a Bering too...?"  
Myka grimaces, this association is an unwelcome complication she's had to deal with since returning to the Springs, it almost makes her wish he hadn't. "My father" she states matter of factly.  
"Mmm, interesting" Helena says.  
"How so?" Myka says, feeling her guard raise higher.  
"Oh, just that, it must be...challenging, working for the police department when your father is Mayor and a former police chief, to boot." Her smile is small but seems genuine. It's not the response Myka was expecting but, nonetheless, it is a challenge in itself.  
"Not at all. I do my job, the end." Myka says firmly, before Pete jumps in, and Myka knows he will have a comment for her later about this strange tension.  
"H.G." he says with what is unearned familiarity, it's a favourite tactic of his, to irk their suspect. "Yes, Detective. To what do I owe the pleasure?" she says distractedly.  
"That's a very nice bike you have there" he says, ignoring her question "A Triumph..." Helena gives him a calculating look, clearly wondering what his angle is. "A Triumph America. It suits my purpose very well" she pulls her loosening hair from it's tie, letting it fall across her glistening, bare shoulders. Myka wonders if that little display was for her benefit and looks away, beyond Helena in her perspiration spotted grey tank and fitted leather pants, to the propped open door of apartment number twelve.  
"It has a passenger seat" Pete observes. Myka watches as Helena sighs, impatient, "Please, do get to the point, and quickly. I have a job to do." Myka realises then that she doesn’t know. Her face, those eyes convey a weariness, a stillness that do not speak of knowing that the man who murdered her daughter is ‘free’. _Unless she is responsible_ the detached, analytical part of Myka’s brain prompts. She touches Pete’s arm to stop him, and sees Helena’s eyes glance at the motion. She can’t explain to him, but she knows his approach will not be...gentle...enough. Myka has seen a glimpse of her pain, she thinks of the Helena she knows, and didn't know. She knows now that Helena lost a child, her child was killed through violence.  
“Ms Wells” she starts. “So formal” Helena says, with a pointed look at Pete “We are all friends here.”  
Myka drops her head, hands on hips and takes a step forward, “H.G.” the moniker feels strange in her mouth but her voice is soft and she sees confusion flicker in Helena’s eyes because, it’s a voice reminiscent of times spent in a snow surrounded cabin. “We are investigating an incident, can you tell us your movements yesterday morning, between 6am and 11am?”  
She noticeably straightens, eyes narrowing “Am I being accused of something?”  
"Just answer the question" Pete says quietly.  
She huffs out a sigh "I awoke at 6.30 and had breakfast at a diner down the road, as I do every day at 8, despite the dreadful tea. I was there for over an hour, then I filled up with gas on the way back here, where I remained until midday" and she looks at Myka, expression saying _what is this?_. Myka hesitates and after a quick silent communication with Pete, makes the choice to share some information. They need to see her reaction, and if she is not involved, the news will be especially unwelcome. "We'll need to verify those movements, of course" Myka says, before sucking in her lips, tucking a stray curl behind her ear in a gesture she can't control but knows betrays unease. "Ok. Yesterday a prison van was run off the road, and two prisoners are now missing" Helena stiffens, the confusion in her face turns into something akin to fear, Myka for her part thinks it is genuine. "Understand we got there very quickly and there are many people working on this..." Myka speaks softly, but she is procrastinating, "There is no easy way to say this, in light of....one of the prisoners is Marcus Diamond."  
Helena's face goes blank then hardens in an instant, her jaw clenches, and she drops her eyes down to the oily rag she now twists in her hands. "How did this happen..." she grinds out, voice shaking "Why wasn't I..." she stops short, folds her arms up around herself and lifts her head. Her face is a mask, her eyes cold, her voice colder, and Myka is reminded of a gunpoint encounter "Tell me what happened."  
Despite the heat of the day, Myka feels a chill, here is the demeanour of a woman who has the potential to exact her own kind of justice. Pete senses his partner's hesitation, and again backs her up. "H.G. you know we can't go into details" he says, then carefully nods towards her apartment "We should go inside, to talk. To get the details of where you went yesterday."  
The steel in her voice hardens further "If you want me to co-operate, you will tell me now. What happened?" Pete touches the cuffs on his belt, "Hey, if you want us not to take you back to the precinct, _you_ will co-operate"  
Myka feels trapped between two warring goals, the need to work the evidence and the want to reassure the woman in front of her. She settles for a middle ground. "H.G." Myka says "We know this is hard, but we are doing everything possible to locate them" she says.  
Helena barks out a short, bitter laugh "I have previous experience of the police 'doing everything possible', Detective Bering. Forgive me if I have little faith in that." Myka flinches but presses on, voice firmer in the face of Helena's distrust, "...you will be helping by co-operating now. There are elements that suggest Diamond was abducted..."  
"Abducted? What on earth makes you think..." Helena splutters, her eyes close then open again as she places two flat hands on the seat of her bike "My daughter.....God...what incompetent fools allowed this?" Then her eyes widen, "You think _I_ had something to do with this, why else would you be here...ha" she spins so her back is to them, a hand shoots up to the back of her head and down again as she turns back to them.  
"There are elements that could point to that, yes" Pete says, taking Myka's conciliatory lead now, "So you see why we need to rule you out."  
"But I didn't even know the appeal was yesterday!" she blurts out, talking to herself more than them, "I knew it was this week, yes, and I asked not to be told until the outcome. But for my bloody lawyer not to tell me _this_ has happened!"  
"They may not have been told, at the appeal court" Myka says, "It's currently need to know..." she realises her error as Helena throws her hands up then thrusts them both into her hair where they stay, clinging to the top of her head. "Of course, there's been nothing. Don't you think the public _need to know_ when prisoners _escape_?" she hisses, low and rumbling.  
Myka watches the anger fester, Helena seems to jump between moods so quickly, and she can't see them getting anywhere. She looks at Pete and he jerks his head to the side, so they step away. "Surprisingly, my gut says she had nothing to do with this" he mutters, "but...there's means, motive, the video...the evidence." He smiles wryly at Myka.  
She has a thought "The tyre tracks" she says, and turns to look at Helena who is now stood straight, arms encircling her waist, mouth set firm as if she has made decision. "We need Abigail and Liam to check her motorcycle" Myka says to Pete in a low voice.  
Helena's voice cuts into their conversation "I am still here. You want a statement, an alibi, then let's do it," she says clearly, though still seething, "the sooner it's done the sooner I can do what I need to."  
"In order to assist the investigation, we need our crime techs to examine your vehicle" Myka says, but Helena frowns at this additional requirement, "I'm not entirely sure why that is necessary."  
"It's necessary, that's it" Pete says, and with a slight crease of her brow and a quirk of her mouth, she argues "I'm sure my new lawyer - because I shall be firing the current one - would point out that the number of registered motorcycle owners in this state, let alone this country....would preclude my owning one as being enough to warrant my being singled out."  
Pete sucks his teeth "Unfortunately, you also have motive, H.G." he says with a slight, sympathetic grimace.  
Sighing, she doesn't deny it, "I have nothing to hide, but I am not giving it over to you" she places a hand on the fuel tank.  
"Our techs can be here in the hour" Myka says, "they are very efficient."  
Pete has his phone ready and at Helena's nod and dismissive wave of a hand, he calls Abigail while Myka follows Helena into her apartment. There is a small kitchen, a table and living area in one room, plus a bedroom and bathroom. It's sparse, there are some files on the table, which Helena quickly clears away, and she gestures for Myka to take a seat. Myka knows that Helena is dictating the conditions now, by taking control of the environment, but that's fine, this is not yet an interrogation. She observes as Helena reaches up to a cupboard, retrieves a jug and drops in ice cubes and ready sliced lemon from the fridge. As she turns to the sink with the jug she catches Myka's eye, a knowing smile tugging at her lips, then she stands with her back to Myka, filling the jug from the faucet. When she places it and three glasses on the table between them, Myka busies herself pouring a drink, putting the heat in her cheeks down to the time of day. Myka wants to say something but she can't risk them getting into it with Pete outside. "I find this as good as tea for cooling me down" Helena says, just as he joins them, having retrieved the necessary paperwork from the car. "Liam's on his way" he says to Myka who takes charge of the forms, it's a procedure she can focus on, to prevent her mind from conjuring up images of a kitchen elsewhere. As they work through Helena's statement, garnering as much detail as they can, Myka senses she has withdrawn again into her own thoughts. Her answers are perfunctory, any playful air is gone, then when Liam arrives, Pete steps out for a moment and she suddenly mutters "I'm sorry." It's barely a whisper but Myka hears and instinctively looks up to find dark eyes watching her closely. It is a glimpse of the Helena she knows, not H.G. "Not now" Myka murmurs back, tight mouthed, then louder "I think we are done here." 

They leave Liam with the uniform who accompanied him, and back in their car Myka blows a breath it feels like she has been holding since the moment she saw Helena again.  
“You two...seemed to have some kind of instant dislike...or like...going on back there” Pete suddenly says, a slight frown creasing his brow. He keeps his eyes on the road so he doesn't see the moment of panic flash across her face. “In your head Lattimer” but she doesn’t convince herself so she says with a crooked smile, "You know this heat, it brings out the irritable in people..."  
"Yeah...I'm getting a really weird feeling about this case, can't put my finger on it" he says as they turn out onto the main road heading to the diner Helena claims she frequents.  
"It does feel like there is something we are missing" she concedes, "and I'm not sure if it's to do with the history" she gestures back toward the hotel, "...or the incident itself."  
"We can't be sure this is just about Diamond" Pete says  
"No...Todd Nolan?" she says  
"Could be a knowledgeable witness if nothing else" Pete concludes and Myka nods.  
They confirm Helena's movements with the gas station, which has cctv showing Helena pulling out at 9:20am, but the shift pattern at the diner means that the staff they need to talk to aren't available so they resolve to return at a later time.  
"It would be very tight, but the time to get from here to the 105 for 9:45...it's doable" Pete says, but Myka scrunches her face up in thought. "Picking up the stolen van en route?"  
"Mmm, it was stolen out of Denver overnight...just enough doubt, but just enough opportunity too. She may have another bike." Pete muses and Myka feels sick, turning away to wind her window down in the hope Pete doesn't see her expression. When they get back to the precinct Myka drops into her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose, her head is starting to pound and she's grateful when Pete drops a bottle of water in front of her along with two Advil. "I can tell when that brain of yours is working overtime" he gives her a rueful smile, "Is everything ok Mykes?"  
She looks up sharply, he has started calling her that recently, she knows it's his 'Myka whisperer' technique, but right now it's the last thing she wants. "Yes, everything's ok. Like you say, tired brain today." She's been lying to him by omission, and she has no idea if she in turn is being lied to. Helena's persona is a contradiction, one minute playful and open, the next, angry and unreadable. Myka wonders who it was she spent time with in the mountains, the real Helena or just a version to fit the circumstance. She need to understand, and so essentially for the case but partly for herself she pulls up the file on Marcus Diamond. She prints off the report and witness statements for the bank robbery over four years ago, Helena’s among them. While Pete deals with some of the other case files on their pile, Myka leans back in her chair to read.

 

_**January 2010**_

“Mummy look!” Helena’s hand is being tugged again, as Christina drags her along the snow covered pavement to the beautifully dressed window of a jewelry shop. “Christina darling, what have you seen now?” Helena says fondly, enjoying the excitement in her daughter’s voice.  
“There...look mummy, I think that is perfect for grandma!” Christina is pointing to a display of chains hanging from a ceramic tree sculpture, and to a gold chain with an ornate locket attached. Helena thinks it a little old fashioned, but agrees with Christina that it would be an ideal gift for her own mother’s birthday later that month.  
“Do you think it will be a better gift than Uncle Charles’s” Christina’s eyes twinkle in the light of the window, referring to the box set of his own novels that he is sending with them when they return home to London. Helena chuckled, winking at her daughter “I should think it will be a more original gift!”  
“I think grandma has all of Uncle's books three time over” Christina giggles, “...but I suppose the new covers are quite interesting.”  
They step into the warmth of the shop and with the help of the assistant, look at the jewelry, before settling on the locket Christina had pointed out in the window. They go for some lunch, and Christina’s eyes open wide at the triple layered sandwich that is placed in front of her, “I can see why Uncle Charles moved to America, the food is amazing!”  
“Darling, I am confident that it was your Uncle’s agent that convinced him to move here, and not the food…” Helena says, tucking in to her own sandwich.

After lunch, they make their way to the bank, where Helena planned to open a US bank account in preparation for a business arrangement with her brother. It’s not too busy, around fifteen customers are queuing at one of the two counters, or using the self service machines, while Helena and Christina are sat waiting to speak with an advisor. "Can I have another look?” Christina whispers, and Helena rolls her eyes, passes the small, silver handled paper bag to her. “Last time until we get home” she whispers back. Christina carefully opens the slim box and lifts out the locket and chain “It’s pretty, the right choice” she says, satisfied. It’s then that Helena’s attention is drawn to the bank’s entrance, and very quickly she realises they are in a dangerous situation. Three men have entered, their heads covered by balaclavas, guns held outstretched. Immediately they disarm the guard near the door and order everyone down. Helena grabs Christina, pulls her to the carpeted floor and hopes that they remain hidden from the thugs, two of whom are now proceeding to intimidate the cashiers. The third, largest man makes straight for the offices where they are lying on the ground. Helena watches as his booted feet pass by them, then he returns from an office with the manager, dragging him over to a door to the side of the counter. Christina has been quiet so far, taking her queue from her mother, but now she whispers, “Are you ok mummy?” Helena wants to sob at the sentiment, but she squeezes her hand, kisses the hair on the top of her head “Yes darling, quiet now.”  
As she chances a peek, she now sees there is a second bank guard, hidden beneath a desk and he is checking his gun. As she catches his eye she shakes her head ‘no’, but his eyes don’t even linger long enough to see it, before he is moving. He takes out one of the men, then the other is yelling “Diamond!” before he too is dropped by a bullet. People are screaming over the gunfire, the guard has dropped behind a pillar near to them and Helena clings to Christina desperately, willing this to be over. But it’s not. In a blur of movement, the third man reappears, the guard swings out but is too slow and is shot as the perpetrator roars in anger “Fuuuuuck!” Helena senses a presence, glances up, and he is looking directly at them both. She drops her head back down but he has strode over and those booted feet are stood still in front of them. “You” he growls, “Both of you. You are going to walk out of that door with me now, like it's a normal day.” Helena is caught, indecisive, and he grabs her arm and starts to drag her up and she is clinging to Christina who has started to cry. But Christina is also now hitting him, hitting him, hitting him “Leave my mummy, leave her alone!” Just as Helena moves to soothe her, reassure her they will be okay, the man who she will come to know as Marcus Diamond, lashes out and hits Christina with such force that she is flung to the floor, and Helena hears a sickening crack. It will haunt her, that noise, this moment, the minutes and hours afterwards, the days and nights to come. She looks up into cold grey eyes that she will also commit to memory, he yells in frustration and strikes Helena with the but of his gun, before gathering up a large brown envelope that had fallen from his jacket in the struggle. He heads for the exit as Helena, bloody cut at her temple, dives to Christina who still clutches the locket in her hand. But Helena knows, she knows, she knows. 

 

_**Present Day**_

The evening humidity hangs heavy in the air, and as Myka walks from her air conditioned car to the glowing lights of the diner, she feels her skin start to tickle with a hint of perspiration. The sun is low now, and she has returned alone to meet the manager who was on duty just yesterday morning. As she steps through the door, a few heads raise then drop again, her presence deemed not noteworthy enough. She identifies the manager straight away, a woman with an air of calm authority, currently admonishing a younger member of staff. Myka steps up to the counter and shows her badge to the woman when she turns to greet her. "Ms McKinnon...Detective Bering, CSPD"  
"Oh yes, I've been expecting you. Let's go in the back, would you like a drink, Detective?" She flashes a bright smile at Myka, "It's Sarah by the way."  
Myka smiles back cautiously, sensing a flirtatious air in Sarah's tone "A glass of water would be fine, thank you"  
Sarah grabs a glass into which she drops ice and lemon, it's strangely reminiscent of Helena earlier that day, and Myka wonders if she gained her penchant for the embellishments here. “So, were any of the other staff here on duty yesterday morning?” Myka asks as Sarah puts the drink in front of her. “Oh, Don on the grill and Martha, one of the servers….so what is this about Detective Bering?” Sarah has sat in the chair adjacent to Myka and regards her with curious, eager eyes.  
“We just need to verify some information, Ms McKinnon, about a customer” Myka says, and pulls out Helena's official bail bonds registration photograph.  
“Oh, it’s H.G.!” Sarah says animatedly, “She’s been coming every morning for over a week now, we love having her here. I hope she's ok?”  
Myka is a little taken aback by this response, Helena has clearly made an impression in a short time, but then, she knows all about that. “She is ok. I just have a few questions about yesterday morning. Can you tell me what time H.G. arrived and how long she stayed?”  
“Well she’s usually here at 8 on the dot every morning, and she was yesterday. I served her because we were short staffed” Sarah says, “Same order, tea, toasted bagel, fruit juice and a sandwich to go.”  
“So nothing at all different yesterday? When did she leave, and was it her usual time?” Myka presses.  
Sarah smiles coyly “Actually, she was here longer than usual, she left at ten past the hour instead of 9am. It was my fault really, I was quizzing her about London, I’ve always wanted to go there,” she gives Myka a conspiratorial look, “I like hearing that British accent....” Myka tries to ignore the slight blush on Sarah's cheeks, she’s certainly been charmed by Helena. “Did you discuss anything else?”  
“Umm, just the weather being so hot, oh and she always tries to persuade me to get some different teas in…” she laughs, “...but that’s not up to us at the branch.” Sarah leans forward slightly, “She’s not in trouble is she? She seems lovely, you know, in spite of the image...the biker thing…”  
Myka shakes her head, smiles and turns on her own brand of reassuring charm “Just part of a wider investigation, Sarah. You’ve been very helpful.”  
Sarah seems disappointed to earn no gossip on the matter. “Did you want to speak to Don or Martha?” Myka has already decided that there is probably nothing more to gain from talking to the other staff, but nods her head. Helena has clearly established herself as a regular, pleasant and potentially alluring customer. The fact she was there longer than usual could mean something and nothing at all. The facts were that she was there between 8am and 9:10am, then was at the the gas station at 9:20am. They needed Liam and Abigail to finish any tests they were doing on the samples he'd taken from Helena’s motorcycle.  
After spending a few minutes with the other staff, confirming her suspicions, Myka passes by Sarah on her way out. “We may be in touch....and thanks for the drink, it was refreshing.” Myka says and Sarah suppresses a chuckle, “You know, that’s what H.G. said - she protested not being given just a plain glass of water, then admitted it was good the way we served it.”  
After excusing herself from Sarah’s attention, politely refusing the offer of a free coffee and muffin to go, Myka pushes out into the warm night air and back to her car. She sits with the engine running, waiting for the warm air pumping through the vents to turn cooler, internally debating whether what she is about to do next is wise. She knows it isn’t, but Helena affects her in a way that clouds her judgement, she needs to see her without Pete hovering, and so she puts the car in gear and sets off for the hotel that is just 15 minutes along the road. 

Myka had half hoped that the bike would not be parked outside the apartment, but it was. So she finds herself stood outside, hand poised to knock on the door, when it opens anyway and there is Helena in grey shorts and black tank top. Her arms are lightly tanned, the freckles about her chest more numerous, and her hair is down.  
“You know, loitering outside a doorway can get you in trouble, Myka” she says with a wistful smile. Myka steels herself and steps into the room, which looks much as it did earlier.  
“Are you allowed a beer, or a whiskey perhaps?” Helena asks, shutting the door and moving to the kitchen while Myka hesitates, then sits at the table. “If you are asking whether I am here in an official capacity, the answer is I don’t know” she sighs.  
Helena pops the caps on two cold light beers and holds one out, Myka takes it and presses the cold glass against her face. “I think that may be more satisfying than the drink itself” she says, before taking a glug, delaying the conversation she wants to have.  
Helena stays standing, leant on the fridge "I meant what I said, earlier" she says softly, "I'm sorry. For the way I left and for the way we met again."  
Myka doesn't look at her, takes another drink of the ice cold beer, "You were on a job, I take it?"  
"Honestly, no. I was laying low for a while, I was not on the Christmas list of a particularly unsavoury character and Arthur allowed me the use of his property..."  
A piece suddenly clicks into place for Myka, "Nielsen! The bail bondsman. But he told my colleagues...nevermind..." Myka looks to the ceiling, "You make me forget things" she breathes out slowly, frustrated and weary.  
She doesn't miss that Helena lets out a slow breath along with her, then she speaks, "When I saw a dark figure poking around outside the cabin, I was a little jumpy. Then there you were, a fiercely beautiful, defiant woman doing her job." She moves to sit opposite Myka, "I indulged, in truth, when I let it happen..."  
Myka fixes her with a stare, voice hard now as her feelings on finding that note resurface, "Glad I was such an agreeable distraction for you, Helena."  
Helena reaches a hand across the table, then just as quickly withdraws it. "I got a message from Arthur, lucrative job. So I took the easy way out. I didn't realise that by the time I left..." voice low, she shakes her head, then runs a hand through her hair and Myka just as quickly switches from her anger to _wanting_. But circumstances are different now, and Helena choosing to leave that cabin is the least of the barriers between them.  
"You've certainly made an impression at the diner" she says, deliberately steering them into the present, though struggling to mask a hint of jealously in her mocking tone " _Sarah_ seems to love having _H.G._ as a regular customer."  
Helena rolls her eyes, “Did I miss something here?"  
Myka pushes the half empty beer bottle away. "She confirmed you were there between 8 and 9:10am, Helena, that's all."  
"I was cultivating a relationship, Myka” Helena sighs, "Sarah is the sister of my bail jumper. He’s contacted her before when in trouble. But I'm glad she has proved to be useful in this matter."  


Indulging, distracting, useful, are the words that swim around Myka's mind now, but then when she looks at Helena's face, the words sad, angry, and weary spring to mind. There is more colour to her face, but the eyes betray when her guard is lowered, and Myka knows that around her, Helena has the capacity to do that. She leans to take the bottle back, pulls a long drink from it. "I'm surprised I don't drink more, this is good, right now." she says, then, quietly "I read the file on Diamond, the robbery. I'm so sorry Helena."  
"You know my loss too, now" Helena murmurs but her jaw clenches and she stands, turns her back on Myka to stare into the reflection in the one window in the room. Myka can see that her left hand cups her right elbow, and she knows that Helena is clutching at her locket now. After a moment she drops her head forward, then turns, her hands again worrying at her hair, eyes intense. "Can you understand why the thought of him free..."  
"Yes" Myka wants to go to her but she shouldn't, and she can see that Helena is walking the line between her grief and a renewed fury. What would such a person be capable of?  
Helena is looking closely at her now, "I know what you are thinking. If I knew he might get out, would I do something about that...well..." she pulls her mouth in a tight line, "...if he were actually released, then I might..."  
"Helena!" Myka almost yelps, "Don't..."  
"Don't say things like that to an officer of the law?" She laughs mirthlessly, "You suspect me in any case"  
"But I want to believe you" Myka says, and she means it.  
Helena's mouth relaxes, "Believe me, I will probably make that hard for you."  
A snippet of an earlier conversation comes to Myka, and she stands, hands on hips, eyes narrowing. "What did you mean by 'the sooner I can do what I need to'?"  
Infuriatingly, Helena smirks at her, "Fiercely beautiful" she says, and Myka scowls, "Don't avoid the question."  
"Myka, you know what I do. I find people."  
"This is different and you know it"  
She scoffs "How much of that file did you read, although I don't suppose I was in there as anything other than the grieving witness and mother, in that order." When Myka gives her a quizzical look, Helena elaborates, "He was on the run for a few months, it wasn't the police who caught him."  
"No, It was a Steve Jinks who turned him over into police custody. That's all I know."  
"Steve" Helena says affectionately "...he is one of my closest friends now. One day I may tell you how that happened."  
She steps towards Myka "I _am_ going to look for him. I apologise if that doesn't fit with your view of how things should be done, Detective." Then a derisive snort escapes her, with an urgent demand, "Are there plans to appeal to the public yet?” and at Myka’s negative response “Then do you have any influence with your father?"  
Myka closes her eyes for the briefest of moments at mention of her father, and ignores the comment. "Our Captain is working on that" she says, offering Helena an inadequate crumb.  
"Captain Frederic" Helena says, "You know, Arthur text me when she rang him. If it had been any other I'd have asked him to stall on giving my location. She's fair, and incorruptible."  
"You say that like it's a rare thing in the police department, Helena" Myka says and earns an indulgent smile and a shake of the head in response.  
"There were two" Helena says suddenly before Myka can challenge her, "There were two prisoners, you said earlier."  
When Myka doesn't respond immediately, she steps forward again, closer so that Myka catches the smell of her warm coconut scented skin. But this is no intimacy, it is insistence. " _Who else_ was on that van?"  
"You know I can't release that infor..." But she is interrupted by Helena's exasperated cry, "Myka please!" so she takes a step backwards, then another, and holds her hands up. "Helena, we both know that I cannot divulge information from an ongoing investigation, least of all to someone who is still a suspect."  
"Then why are you here Myka? Is it merely to sympathise, to pity me?" Helena lurches forward and Myka thinks for a breath stealing moment that she is either going to hit her or kiss her, but then she veers off and stalks to the bedroom. Myka moves nearer to the exit, but can't bring herself to open it and leave.  
Helena emerges from the room after a minute, "I'm going out. Need a ride, Detective?" her voice now has a light conversational quality to it and Myka knows she is being dismissed. Helena is dressed in leather pants, flat buckled boots almost to her knees and a fitted white tee that accentuates the shape of her arms. She flings a jacket over her shoulder and hooks a helmet over the same hand. Myka shakes her head and drops her gaze as unbidden, her mind conjures up a conversation they'd had as they lay naked in bed, covered in blankets, surrounded by snow. Then she feels fingers brush the side of her jaw, and she closes her eyes, leans in to the touch, but then the fingers are gone before she hears the apartment door open. She turns to see Helena waiting. "I'm sure you and Detective Lattimer will be in touch soon" she says quietly. Myka steps in front of her, "Tell me you are just going out to run an errand, Helena."  
"I'll tell you that if it helps"  
"Helena. You can't just..."  
"Just what, Myka?" and her tone is not gentle, "I can't just sit around here, I can't." Then, low and final, "A few days locked up together doesn't mean you know me. Clearly you don't know me very well at all."  
Myka stares, the words cut into her, and she wants to protest because she does see Helena, she sees enough now to know she will be driven, but also impulsive and reckless, and that is not a good thing when already under suspicion. But, "Fine" is all she can muster and she turns and strides out, along the path and back to her car without a backward glance. She is about to start the engine when Helena sweeps out of the complex, gunning the throttle on her cruiser, distinctive white stripes along the arms of the jacket she wears, back straight and loose hair flapping beneath the edge of her helmet.


	4. Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka meets another bounty hunter, and we learn how H.G. first encountered her future colleagues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit later than anticipated, have been away, but also struggled with this and the following chapter. There comes a point when reading over and again is counter productive, so, here it is...

Myka wakes groggily to the sound of the local news, after a night of broken sleep she'd finally got in a few solid hours before the radio tuned in at 8am. She catches the odd word in her hazy state as she stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom ‘breaking news’....‘federal prisoners’...’prison van’....Myka stops still, suddenly alert. She rushes back to check her mobile, and sure enough, five missed calls and a text. The message is from Pete, _Press got hold of the story. Not official sources. Frederic not happy. Call me._

She puts him on loudspeaker while she throws her clothes on. “Hey, Pete, got your text.”  
“What a mess, the Captain is furious” he says, “I mean, she wanted it out there but not like this, she’ll be getting pressure from above”  
“I didn’t catch it all, just what did they know?”  
“The date, that it was early morning, two prisoners, one of whom they knew the name of, motorcycle rumoured to be involved…but the office has released an official statement now, so they have Nolan’s photo in circulation too.”  
“H.G. do you think it’s come from her?” she sighs, it must've been Helena, unless someone in the department decided to help the investigation along. “You told the Captain?”  
“Bingo, and yes but what can we do, it’s not something we can prove for sure. I guess it could’ve been someone connected to a guard just as easily.” Myka can't tell him how sure she is that it's Helena, after seeing her last night. Myka has placed herself in a poor position, between her partner and a potential suspect.  
“So what now? I’ll be ready to leave in 10 minutes” she says.  
“Well, actually….we got our first ‘sighting’ already” and she can tell he’s grinning, "I'm on my way to your apartment..."

They are headed north of Briargate to an internet cafe, and Pete verbalises what Myka is thinking, "The address is only about five minutes from where H.G. is staying." She nods because she doesn’t trust herself to speak, she’s tired and wound up, cycling over last night’s conversation with Helena. They’d parted on a sour note, Helena effectively dismissing any connection they’d made, and Myka can’t deny that it hurt. The brief brush of fingers to her face had been a reminder and an empty promise. This was not the way she’d ever imagined running into her again, and she had imagined many scenarios. Myka was under no illusion that Helena had a gift for presenting herself as the situation required, a very useful skill in her profession, and she’d quickly worked her way into the good graces of people at the diner. But her pain at the loss of her daughter, and her anger over Diamond escaping was very real. She was not a person to sit idly by, she’d implied her own involvement in bringing Diamond to justice the first time around, so in her eyes why would it be different now. Helena’s earnest pleas have Myka convinced she isn’t involved in an abduction if that is what’s happened, but there is still that element of doubt, grounded in motive and means. Myka pushes away unhelpful thoughts about what Helena may have done once he had served his actual sentence. She made a mistake going to that hotel, knows she needs to quickly get her own game back.  
Her head is resting against the window, angled to receive the cool air from the dashboard vents. As they pull into the street where the cafe is located, she spots in the side mirror two motorcycles turning into the bend behind. She sits up, craning her neck to look out the rear window, “I don’t believe it” she says, because she can see one of the riders has a black leather jacket with distinctive white stripes along the arms. “What...oh...shit” Pete is looking in the rearview. “Where have they come from?”

They pull up and the two bikes park behind them. Myka checks her badge, holster and pulls her hair back in a ponytail before stepping out with Pete. It is Helena, she is now sat leaning slightly back, helmet set down on the seat between her legs, as she talks to the man on the other bike. He is round faced, with fair closely cropped hair - they are clearly very familiar with each other.  
“H.G.” Pete says as he strolls to the rear of their car. Myka follows, shades covering her eyes, stance stiff and unyielding. “Just enjoying a morning ride, Detective” Helena drawls, nods toward Myka “Fancy seeing you and Detective Bering here”  
“Like a bad smell…illegally scanning radios?” Pete asks.  
“How rude. We waited outside your building, that’s all” she shrugs, “...sometimes it’s worth chasing the cops for a lead.”  
“I hope you are not planning on interfering with official police business” Myka steps forward, "It seems, H.G., that the press have already got a hold of information they shouldn’t have.”  
Helena smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “Is that an accusation? It seems I must get used to those” she sighs, “We’re just seeing where the day takes us, _Detective_ ” 

The man beside her gets off his bike, holds a hand out to Myka, “Steve Jinks” he says, “Don’t mind her, we are not here to get in your way.” He speaks quietly, and she notices Helena give a slight roll of her eyes, before scanning their surroundings and coming to a decision. “I think a morning tea is in order…Steve?” He performs a similar scan and nods, but says “I’ll wait out here.”  
Pete gives Myka a look that says _’what the?!’_ , before turning and striding for the cafe, intuitively knowing that Myka will want to use the opportunity to talk with Steve. Sure enough, Helena quickly jumps from her seat, leaving her helmet hanging from a handlebar. Without a backward glance she skips across the road in pursuit of Pete. 

Myka removes her shades and looks at Steve more closely. This is the man who brought in Marcus Diamond four years ago. He is younger than Helena, mid to late twenties, but his eyes speak of a calm world weariness and there is a light stubble on his jaw. “We’ve been up most of the night” he says, “So forgive any rudeness on H.G.’s part”  
“I just thought that was part of her charm” she says shortly, and he sighs. “This is hard for her, it’s bringing back memories she was starting to come to terms with. To be under suspicion…” he shakes his head, “...for _you_ to suspect her.”  
Myka looks at him sharply and wishes she hadn’t removed her shades because it feels like he is looking into her soul. He knows something of their past, for what it was. “I...don’t” he puts his hand up to cut her short “That’s not entirely true is it? But I can see why she is on the list...but then there probably isn’t a very long list is there?”

She doesn’t answer because he is right, they have little to go on. Most of Marcus Diamond’s associates from 4-5yrs ago are either behind bars, dead or in another state. A chat with Marcus Diamond's lawyer, Thea Stanton, implied there had been no suggestion at all that he was willing to do a deal regarding Walter Sykes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was retained by Sykes” Pete had said. It was unfounded rumour as far as Stanton was concerned, she surreptitiously suggested to Pete that they check the prison visitor records. Sure enough, Sykes had visited Diamond a number of times over the years and when he spoke with prison officers, they’d told Pete of suspicions that Diamond was running a contraband operation. But then mere rumours of betrayal don't have to be true to spur someone into action. Sykes was, on the outside, a respectable property developer, but there had been attempts over time to gather evidence of his involvement in protection rackets, insurance scams, and intimidation of residents in properties found in prime real estate locations. He possibly knew something even if he wasn't responsible. They’d been advised by Captain Frederic to make an official appointment, they had grounds due to the visits, and they were waiting for his personal assistant to get back to them. 

She regards Steve now and wonders how he came to be one of Helena’s closest friends, “You’ve known H.G. a while, haven’t you?” He smiles at her deflection, but is graceful enough to take it on the chin, nodding. “Just over four years now. It’s a sad fact that we only met because of the tragedy in her life” he says, “I’m glad she came to us…our agency.”  
“So you’d say you know her pretty well?”  
“We ride together, I’ve taught her a few things and vice versa, we are good friends.” He says softly, and without preamble “She regrets leaving you there, you know, without a way to get in touch. Though she’d hurt me in a most painful way if she knew I was saying this to you.”  
Myka shifts her stance, puts her shades back on, “That’s not relevant here” she says, “She’s already made it clear I’m useful for the information I provide, we don’t owe each other anything.”  
It hurts to say it, and Steve gives her a sympathetic look, “Let me just say one thing?” When she doesn’t answer, he continues “Her daughter was everything, she fought for the police to do their job better, and isn’t it ironic now that the detective in charge is the reason Diamond got this appeal?” He leans back on his motorcycle seat, “...she came to us for help and she found a purpose….and the fact he is not in custody just brings that all back again. She is driven, Detective Bering, you must understand that need for justice to be served.”

She looks at him impassively, she understands more than she wants to admit, and she wonders what it is about him that Helena so clearly places her full trust in him. From behind her shades, she nods her head, but can’t resist reiterating her stance with Helena in the hope he will be a positive influence. “She, and you, must stick within the law. I can’t help if you don’t.” He holds his hands up, “Within the law. I will look out for her, Detective Bering.”

“So, with that in mind, what kept you both up most of the night, Mr Jinks?” she says, and he smirks, then points toward the Internet Cafe. Myka lifts her shades back to the top of her head, eyes widening as she watches Helena stumble out of the doorway, closely followed by Pete who has his palm against her shoulder. She throws both hands up, says something to Pete and steps back a few steps out of his reach. Pete is not happy, “This one thought it was a good idea to start intimidating customers” he yells across the road. “I was merely questioning them” Helena protests, “...one of that bunch felt it necessary to provide false information, it would have been useful to know why!” They cross the road and Helena immediately gets back on her ride and starts playing with the straps on her helmet. “Hey, because they get a kick out of the attention” Pete scowls, “I ought to arrest you for interfering with an investigation.”  
Myka looks at Steve, “Within the law..?” and he looks across to Helena, “Come on H.G., before you get us both in more trouble.” She narrows her eyes, looking between him and Myka, “I see you two have been getting acquainted” she sighs, her eyes linger on Myka’s for a moment before she puts the helmet on and pulls the visor down. “See you around, Detectives” Steve says, before doing the same. They start up and swing out into the street then around to head back the way they came.  
“Total dead end” Pete says, gesturing to the cafe. “To be honest, I don’t blame her for getting riled up. I hope to god we don’t get a truck load of bad tips from this publicity.”  
“I’m going to call Sykes office again” Myka says, and they jump back into their car. Myka strangely feels better for meeting Steve, he seems to have a clear head and she only hopes his influence is enough to keep Helena grounded. 

  


_**April 2010** _

In the months since Christina’s death, Helena had been through more emotions than she cared to remember. Acceptance was never one of them and now, a cold fury was the predominant force which got her up each morning. She had remained in the U.S., living with her brother Charles in Denver. She reasoned that the torture of living less than an hour from the scene of Christina’s murder was no less than that of moving back home to a place with so many happy memories. Both she and her brother had dual nationality thanks to their father, though they’d both been born and raised in the south of England. Their father had met their mother at the company they worked for. She had eventually been swept of her feet by the charismatic second son of the owner, and he was smitten by the dark haired English rose who was the star in their research division, so they told it. She and Charles had inherited the charm and good looks of both their parents, and while Charles had moved down a more artistic route, becoming a novelist, Helena had shown an interest in mechanical engineering like her mother. With the birth of Christina she had continued her career, but as her daughter aged, Helena had decided to make more time for them. Using her own talent for writing and research, she had planned to finally write a novel with Charles - an idea they’d had as impulsive teenagers but never enacted. She was to take time out from her role at the family business and concentrate on that and other writing projects. Being in Colorado had been a necessity to put the wheels in motion, but a cruel twist of fate saw it take her daughter away from her forever.

Helena had remained ensconced in her room for days at time, unable to comprehend the loss of her precious girl. Charles had done his best, but his usual charm gave way in the face of her grief, and he grieved too, the stiff upper lipped Englishman winning out while the brother struggled to say the right thing. The call to Christina’s estranged father had been difficult. They had never been married, and the transient nature of his job meant that he was only involved in Christina’s life every few months, but he did love her. He had loved her, and so he piled the guilt onto Helena for placing her in danger, for taking her abroad, for any decision that had let to this outcome. She took it, already blaming herself for not doing things differently on that day, in that bank, in the moment Marcus Diamond had demanded they walk with him. After a month of pure stupor, she had thrown herself into writing. She found herself writing and rewriting accounts of that day, creating alternate versions, torturing herself but also layering up the anger that was festering. Anger at anyone involved, but focussing mainly at the police for not having located Diamond almost three months since the robbery. Marcus Diamond had been identified early on as a suspect, but any leads had run cold. So she was told when she had found her footing and started to query their inaction. The Detective in charge, Aquino, had been condescending in the face of her persistent questioning and she had filed complaints before eventually meeting with the Captain of the department. Irene Frederic had been understanding, and displayed her own frustration at the lack of progress. She’d told Helena that just that week a sighting in a Las Vegas casino was reported but police there had drawn a blank. The Captain had meant it as a reminder that things were happening, that eventually justice would prevail. What it did do was give Helena an idea, and the next day she had booked a flight to McCarran International in Nevada.

Without a plan, she'd booked into the hotel attached to the very casino Diamond had supposedly been spotted at. Holding a newspaper cutting with his photograph on, she moved along the casino floor, casually quizzing staff at different concession stands, playing some tables so she could interrogate the croupiers too. She was an intelligent, clever woman, but her single mindedness in this moment blinded her to her surroundings. So when casino security intercepted her at the moment she joined a roulette table, she had been caught off guard.  
"Ma'am we're going to have to ask you to leave" a soft southern accent murmured in her ear, just as she felt a firm grip on her elbow.  
"Pardon me!" Helena exclaimed, yanking her arm away and spinning to see two 6ft plus suited and booted men. The owner of the voice had a buzz cut, and he held his hand up, mouth drawn in a tight line while the other man was murmuring into his lapel. "You are making our staff uneasy ma'am, you need to call it a day" his tone was neutral, and he gestured with his hand away from the table. She did not want this brute dictating what she could and couldn't do in this matter "I am merely exercising my rights as a citizen to use this casino."  
"Oh boy" the second security man muttered, raising his brow at the other.  
"Don't you 'oh boy' me!" Helena's voice was rising, and she could feel her face redden. Just as buzz cut was about to grab hold of her arms to forcibly remove her, a voice from behind him said "She's with me, Phil. I'll take care of it." Phil turned, a hand still hovering near Helena's arm, his eyes narrowed as he saw the owner of the voice. "Jinks" he's said, "really?"  
"Yes, that's right, isn't it?" Helena realises that this young man called Jinks is looking expectantly at her. He is dressed in dark jeans and motorcycle jacket, and looks to be in his early twenties with fair hair and a twinkle in his eye. When she doesn't respond he raises his eyebrows at her, gives a slight nod while the security goons are watching her. Something in her decides to trust him, "Yes, yes..." she says, "yes...I'm with Mr Jink..Jinksy" she stumbles over her words but finds it in herself to take the few steps and turn to stand alongside Jinks who is giving her a slightly amused yet perturbed look.  
"Jinksy" laughs Phil, "that's a new one, I like it...now scoot, and for future reference you need to train your little spies up better than that... _Jinksy >"_  
Jinks turns and starts striding towards the exit, Helena walks quickly to keep pace with him. "Thanks for that" he says, shaking his head "I'm stuck with it now"  
"I'm sorry...?" Helena says  
"Jinksy" he states  
"Oh, I apologise, it was an attempt to seem familiar with you, seeing as I don’t know you at all, Mr Jinks" she shrugs her shoulders, “Thank you by the way, I….I’ve not been thinking clearly, it wasn’t the brightest move to antagonise security, I am staying at this hotel after all”  
He shakes his head, “This guy you are looking for, you are never gonna get anywhere with your amateur hour methods.”  
“Why do I sense a sales pitch?” Helena likes this young man, he is honest with her, and she needs that right now.  
“Not a pitch, an offer of help” he says with a soft smile. They’ve stopped in the parking lot, and he jumps onto the sole parked motorcycle before pulling out a card from his jacket.  
“Artie Neilsen Bail Bonds, Nevada & Cross State” she reads from the card, “But I’m not looking for someone who has skipped bail…”  
“You are looking for a wanted criminal, _we_ know how to find people, period.” he says from inside his helmet. “I didn’t get your name…?”  
She hesitates a moment, “Call me H.G., it’s H.G.Wells”  
“Interesting...Claudia will love that” he chuckles, “Steve” he holds a hand out which she takes  
"I shan't ever call you Jinksy again" she says  
"Deal, and especially not in front of Claudia” he states, “I hope we see you at the offices H.G., it’s worth a shot, and you are less likely to end up arrested yourself…” He flips his visor down and Helena steps back from the bike as he turns the key and shoots off onto the main road. 

The following morning, Helena finds herself stood outside the offices of Artie Neilsen Bail Bonds. It’s a small, stand alone single storey grey brick building on Casino Central Boulevard, and she is reassured to see Steve’s motorcycle parked outside. When she steps inside she sees what can only be described as organised chaos, the offices are clean with bright walls and dark wooden shelving and ceiling fans, but there are files piled up on the floors and desks. Open filing cabinets line the walls. There is a young red head behind the counter, cursing a filing cabinet that won’t open. She is dressed in grey denim and a fitted black tee emblazoned with the name of a band Helena doesn’t recognise, her hair in a messy bob. Helena clears her throat, and she looks up in surprise, “Oh hi there, sorry, I’m just having a fight with this hunk of junk” she grimaces, “Gimme a sec or I’ll self combust in frustration..”  
“Err, I may have a trick for that” Helena says, stepping forward, “If I could just…”  
“Oooh a Brit? Do go ahead my dear” It’s an awful attempt at an English accent and Helena cringes as she steps around the counter to the cabinet. “If you just hold in the drawer and pull when I do my thing” she says, “1,2,3...now!” Helena whacks the side of the cabinet near the rear and it pings open in Claudia’s hands.  
“Whoop! Thanks, British” she says, “You have my full attention now, how can I help?”  
“I was actually hoping to see Steve” she strains her neck to peek at the office in the rear. “He’s next door grabbing breakfast treats, should be back soon…I’m Claudia” Helena takes the offered hand and finds it shaken enthusiastically.  
A gruff voice calls out from the back office, “Claudia! Is that a client?”  
“Not yet Artie!” she yells back, then to Helena, “He gets a bit antsy when I chat to clients too much, thinks I’ll scare them off...you aren’t scared off yet are you…?”  
Helena actually smiles, this disarming young woman has put her at ease, not quite in the same way as Steve, but still, in a good way. “H.G.” she says, call me H.G.”  
Claudia’s eyes widen slightly, “Casino lady!”  
“Yes, sorry to say, casino lady”  
“Casino lady...H.G.Wells. That is so cool, are you related…?” Before Helena can answer, a bespectacled, bearded man in his sixties emerges from the back office like an unhappy bear disturbed from slumber, “Claudia, I’m sure this potential client would love to discuss how we can help her…rather than entertain you for the next hour.”  
The door behind them suddenly swings open and they all turn to see Steve, paper bag clutched in his teeth, a newspaper and three coffees in his hands. He attempts a smile when he sees Helena and she rushes to pluck the bag from his mouth. “I’m glad you came, H.G. I’ve been looking into some routes we might take in your search” His smile is soft, sympathetic, and from him, she doesn’t find that condescending, just reassuring. This odd triumvirate of people have already made her feel vaguely normal for the first time in a long while, “So am I” she says. 

  


_**Present Day** _

Myka and Pete are sat waiting to speak with Walter Sykes at his plush downtown offices, having been offered a 15 minute window before he left the state on business. Checking his watch, Pete grumbles, “We should have been in there five minutes ago, playing hard to get”  
Myka sighs, “Captain said play it cool for now, remember?”  
“You can go in now” a crisp, clear voice rings out and the man who acts as Walter Sykes assistant steps up from behind his desk and opens the door into the huge top floor office with a view towards Pikes Peak. Sykes is stood by his desk, jacket on already, a clear indication that they aren’t, in his view, to waste his time. His sandy hair is neatly parted, and steely blue eyes regard them with a calm arrogance which belies his greeting. “Detectives! How can I help you today?” he gushes, “Sorry we have only a short window, I’ve a plane to catch, you understand.” When Myka flashes her badge through habit, “There’s no need for that Detective Bering, I know who you are. The Mayor is very proud of his daughter, following his footsteps into the force…” She suppresses her annoyance at his casual mention of her father, and wonders why Sykes would have occasion to chat about personal matters with him.  
“As you say, Mr Sykes, time is short. We have a few questions regarding a known felon, Marcus Diamond.” She says, gratified that ignoring his comment prompts a flicker of irritation in his eyes, though his voice conveys a tinge of sadness, “Ah yes, Marcus, currently missing in action as it were.”  
Pete flicks his notepad open, “You visited Diamond on a total of six occasions in the past four years” he says, “Was there a particular reason for this?”  
“I hoped to help him through his time there, as a mentor” he smiles, a lie behind his eyes.  
“Very noble of you Mr Sykes, he was under your employ for a time, before he committed his crimes, was he not?” Myka says  
He turns to face her, “He did do some work for me yes, though I stress not when he chose to rob that bank” he makes a short chuckling noise, and she clenches her jaw. “He killed a child” she says. _Helena’s child_.  
“I apologise, that was terribly insensitive. He does regret what happened, truly” and he sighs, “Many years ago, his father worked for me but was killed on a construction site. Marcus was a young teen and ended up in the care system for a time. I tried to look out for him, gave him work, and so my visits to him were merely an extension of that.”  
Sykes picks up the cane leant against the edge of his desk and leans onto it, “There is nothing sinister about it, despite what some in the Police Department think of me” and he smiles briefly.  
Myka asks the next question, futile as it is, “Did he mention anything out of the ordinary on you last visit, to indicate his intention?”  
“If he had, I assure you I would have told the authorities, Detective” his voice is cold, dismissive, “He was not optimistic about the appeal, I can say that, despite it being due to the inadequacies of the Detective in charge.” He nods his head towards them as if tarring them with the same brush as Detective Aquino. Myka is fuming, she knows her face shows it, this man is arrogant, manipulative and seemingly feels untouchable enough to goad them. She feels Pete shift beside her, “I think that will be all for now, Mr Sykes. How long are you out of town for, should we need to speak with you again?”  
“Ask my assistant, David. Things change frequently so I may end up coming back sooner or staying longer.” He starts walking to the door and Pete opens it for him, he is now peacemaker, giving Myka a look to say ‘let it go for now’.  
As they watch Sykes disappear into the elevator with a dark suited man in shades, Myka turns to Pete, “He knows something”. Pete nods. “Whether he is involved in helping him, or harming him. He knows something alright” he grimaces and nudges Myka in the shoulder, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

Myka had a missed call from Abigail when they emerged into the sun from Sykes office, she called her straight back, putting her phone on speaker in the car. For some reason she didn’t want to pinpoint, her heart was pounding as the phone clicked and Abigail answered, “Myka, the report should be online now, apologies it’s later than I’d hoped. We had a busy day yesterday, hot summer day craziness…” she says, “So, main highlights. One: the tyres from your suspect’s motorcycle do not match the tracks at the scene.” Myka closes her eyes, opens them again because she senses a... “But. They _are_ consistent with that model.”  
“Ok” Pete says, “So it’s conceivable the tyres were switched?”  
Abigail makes a doubting noise but then says “It’s a possibility, I guess the timeframe would allow it.”  
“So, next highlight?” He says.  
“The sedative was a horse tranquiliser, Xylazine. Not something to be trifled with, the dose would need to be reasonably accurate not to give the guy a heart attack. It induces a state of unconsciousness, plus lack of coordination...for up to 6 hours”  
Myka looks at Pete, interested in this new bit of information, “So, horses only...not something a regular vet would stock?”  
“Any vet who treats them regularly, and most licenced stables would keep a tranquilizer supply locked away on site so it’s quick to hand in case of emergency” Abigail continues, “So we ran a check, a stables in Green Mountain Falls had a break in three weeks ago, and amongst the missing items…”  
“Xylazine” Myka states  
“Correct. I’ve sent you the police report for the break in”  
“Thanks Abigail, we’ll be in touch with any questions”  
“I know you will, Myka, I know you will” Abigail hangs up and Myka feels Pete’s eyes on her, before he says, “I think it might be worth speaking to Wells again”  
“I think we need to do a little more digging first, we can’t arrest her based on what we have, Pete”  
“Hey I said nothing about arresting her. But no harm in asking her to assist with enquiries at the station”  
“She’d not stupid,” Myka snaps, and Pete blanches. “But I am?” he says, “What is up with you lately, Myka?”  
“I’m sorry, Pete” she sighs, “I’m sorry. You are right, but I think we need to review what we have, look at this drug theft report and check we haven’t missed anything.”  
He nods, “Fine”  
“Besides, there’s a new appeal for information going out tomorrow” Myka says, “That may give us a break” and she smiles guiltily for snapping at him. He’s right that she hasn’t been herself, she is conflicted and feels guilty for hiding things from him.  
“Hey, are you hungry?” he says, “Cos I could eat a horse..”  
“Ha, funny” She grimaces, grateful that he has broken the tension.  
“Let’s get take out and head over to that stables, it’s only about a half hour away” he leans around to catch her eye, “Something tells me you need to be doing rather than thinking…” 

He’s not wrong, so she agrees, because her mind is whirling with thoughts of Helena, how the evidence fits just at the periphery, it _suggests_ a story but Myka trusts Helena’s own word enough. Seeing her that morning had done nothing to assuage Myka’s feelings, which she couldn’t put a name to, in spite of Helena’s cool demeanour. She was resigned to the fact that she needed to fight this _pull_ , and Helena it seemed was quite adept at pushing. 


	5. Dealing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka has a regular appointment to keep, but later a certain bounty hunter makes an appearance. We discover that Helena once sought out an ill-advised deal.

Sunday afternoon, Myka is at her parents house, it’s a ritual - every two weeks without fail their small family have Sunday dinner together. Even when in Denver, it required an investigation of significance to grant her leave from family duties. So, after Sam, when she’d broached the topic of a secondment, returning to a field she had, during her late teens, considered making her career, her parents were unhappy. Her mother worried that her career in the force could be harmed, her father saw it as weakness - stepping back from the progress she’d made as a bright star in the detective divisions. Luckily for Myka, her Captain in Denver had fully supported her, so he and her friends in the Ranger service had smoothed the waters. It had made so much sense to her, she needed time and space to work through her guilt and anger, but she couldn’t sit idly by in the meantime. So when she’d brought it up at one of their Sunday gatherings, it had not been received well. Despite being a year off thirty she’d been nervous to tell her parents about a decision she’d made as an adult, blurting out _‘Remember that secondment idea...well I can’t make dinner next time, I’ll be up in Rocky Mountain Park working with Paul Jackson, remember him?’_. It had escalated into a heated discussion (because they never called it arguing, not in the Bering household). She couldn’t say anything about what Sam had truly meant to her, to them he was merely a colleague. To them he wasn’t someone she had, in their happiest times, thought to be someone she might spend her whole life with. Of course, she was expected to visit as often as possible, but she only managed to make three Sundays during the time she was up in the mountains. It had been her nature to take the path of least resistance where her family, her father, was concerned, but the past year had made her want to push back. It had felt good, to disappear, and then to return to Colorado Springs having realised that she doesn’t need or want to be there forever.

Today, six months back into the routine and she is starting to feel less like a stranger in her own family. Her sister Tracy has helped, batting back sly barbs from her mother, and drawing Myka in through her own life. As they had moved into their late teens, Tracy had shined socially in stark contrast to her elder sister, but they had supported each other through the strict household life their father insisted on. It was no different now as they led their adult lives, except now it was about justifying their decisions and finding their own values. Tracy is a few weeks from giving birth, and her excitement and impatience has rubbed off on Myka, giving them all a focus for conversation that isn’t Myka’s life. Myka had confided in Tracy on her second visit back from the mountains, “I loved him, Trace” she’d whispered that night, sat on the porch drinking wine. “I thought as much” Tracy had whispered back, and it had all come pouring out. If she hadn’t been already, Tracy was an advocate for Myka in her absence and she was now, too. Myka had never mentioned Helena though, that had been something so removed from the Myka her family knew, she kept it to herself. Now that Helena had appeared in her life again she had only herself to consult, and she feared she was not as objective as she should be.

“Myka…” her father was calling her out to the porch now, two glasses of homemade lemonade in hand. “Dad, sorry, I’m coming” there was no doubting she would follow, take the drink offered and wait to see what his agenda was for this father-daughter chat. He was greying, balding, and even as a young girl she had never thought of him as anything beyond stern. Quick to find fault, slow to issue praise so that when it came it was like a gift from the gods. When she had joined the force it was her mother that old her he was proud. A few years in, after receiving a commendation for bravery he’d taken her onto this very porch and quietly said, “You did well, Myka. I knew you would make a good officer of the law.” It was as much praise as she could expect, and underlying it was his satisfaction in being correct in his insistence that a life in the force would be more rewarding than a life in the mountains. This afternoon it was in his capacity as recently re-elected Mayor of Colorado Springs that he spoke with her. “So, you and your partner caught the federal prisoner case?” he is stood against the railing, just where the shade starts, watching out over the immaculate gardens her mother tends to.  
“We were up in Larkspur on another investigation, right place right time” she says  
He sips at his drink, expression unreadable, “It’s unfortunate”.  
“It’s true that the circumstances are not good for the authorities” she takes his meaning to reference the day’s news reports on budget cuts impacting security. “But we are doing all we can to get them back into custody”  
He turns to look at her, “That would be an agreeable outcome” and not for the first time she wonders how he ever got into office in today’s personality driven political spectrum. She knew though, the people of Springs voted for the decorated former Police Commander of Patrol Operations, with his new tough on crime ticket - over the scandal hit young pretender who ran on a less politically savvy environmental run. She had also seen him in action at functions, and although not especially charming he had the right words and demeanour to convey the sense that he would get things done, he would deliver.  
“Of course” she says, unsure where this is going.  
“So - any concrete leads Myka?” She is used to his scrutiny, and she has prepared herself for it over the years, so that although she thinks she is better than usual at controlling her expressive face around him, he doesn’t miss her double blink before she says, “A few possibilities, nothing concrete.”  
He twitches, “Really?”  
They’ve discussed high profile cases before, and she has always maintained a professional air to those discussions, names only mentioned if they are in the public domain. Despite his own past, the Mayoral Office was an administerial, policy making one - it did not necessarily equate to access all areas in every case. She took a perverse pleasure in knowing that would frustrate him, that she was privy to information he wasn’t. So now, she doesn’t want to be drawn into this, she fears her face will show more than a professional interest in a suspect, so she deflects, broaching a topic with him that she wouldn’t normally.  
“Really, dad” she smiles to placate, “It hasn’t helped that there needed to be a leak for the public be made aware.”  
“Hmm” he rumbles, and looks away. “As I understand it, it was hoped they would be apprehended within 48 hours...but that clearly wasn’t the case.”  
The barb stings and it moves her to controlled anger, “You know of all people know, dad, that tips from the public are one of the best sources of information in the very early stages…we were denied that.”  
“You of all people know that sometimes wider considerations warrant changes to procedure”  
Undeterred, Myka presses, “Political considerations, usually.”  
“What are you implying, Myka?” he takes her now empty glass from her hand and steps closer, “The Office of the Mayor would only intervene in Police affairs should catastrophic failures be revealed. Perhaps it is your superior officer you should be directing your frustration towards.” His glare is steely, it’s a familiar one to her but she’s determined not to let him dictate her opinions or world viewpoint.  
“Who said anything about the Mayor’s office, dad?” she said, “Although that is where budgets are set for prison services these days.”  
“Myka” he scolds, and in a gesture she rarely sees, pinches the bridge of his nose, “Just ensure this is resolved as soon as possible, the Police Department has plenty of resources to call upon, does it not? Certainly more than in my day.” 

He steps to the side and enters the house, while Myka lets out a breath before stepping back inside to see Tracy stood in the kitchen, bottle of wine in hand _’You ok?’_ she mouths and Myka nods with the semblance of a smile. “Not for me” Tracy says as she gestures towards Myka with the bottle.  
“Just one small glass, I have somewhere to be later, and really don’t want to stay over tonight” she says.  
“Oh right, and where would you be going on a Sunday evening, Myka Bering?” Tracy raises an insinuating eyebrow, and Myka just waves a hand “Work.”  
Tracy pouts, “All work and no play, you are, Sis” She pours a glass and hands it to Myka, “Thanks Trace, and I can play when I want to, don’t you worry.” 

\---

Myka arrives home at 7pm, and decides to go for another run before pouring over the case files yet again. Having spoken with their Captain, Myka and Pete had agreed to see what leads came in from the appeal, but so far, there had been nothing of note. Both Diamond and Nolan were proving elusive, whether by choice or not. Speaking with Wells would only have them spinning in circles of circumstantial evidence, and antagonise a potentially useful source. Yesterday, though on call, Myka had deliberately tried to clear her head of work by keeping herself busy at the shooting range, running 5k, then rearranging her bookshelves yet again. It had been successful to a point, and after the conversation with her father another run seemed like a good place to process and prepare for whatever came next. She heads for Palmer Park, not far from her apartment, and there is plenty of activity going on - fellow joggers, ball games and people just out enjoying the evening sun. As she exits onto the road to head home, she hears a low rumble permeating through the music in her ears. She glances to the side, and a motorcycle is coasting alongside her, the rider wearing a white striped jacket. Helena. 

She keeps running, because she needs to distance herself from Helena, not move towards her, however much she wants to. But Helena is who she is, and she keeps coasting slowly along the road, before flipping up her visor to call across, “Need a ride?”  
Myka hears, and knows Helena will not go without a response. She tugs at wires to pull her earphones free, but still doesn’t stop. “No, thank you, I’m good” she puffs out, keeping her head forward while wondering whether to double back into the park, or at least not return to her apartment yet.  
“Detective Bering..?” Helena pushed the bike forward a little, ahead of Myka’s pace, frequently glancing between the road and her quarry.  
“We shouldn’t be talking, Helena”  
“That didn’t stop you the other night...”

Myka ignores her, picks up her pace and jogs across a junction as the lights time just right, stopping Helena on the road. She is correct of course. Myka’s visit to the hotel was ill-considered and out of character. She has placed herself into a too familiar relationship with a possible suspect, that was the cold truth. Too familiar, potentially intimate, and it has already established dishonesty between Myka and her colleagues. She is broken from her thoughts by Helena’s insistent, slightly indignant voice calling out again from the road, “I’ve been told I should build bridges!” 

Myka stops suddenly, hands on hips, breathing heavily. “I'm guessing Steve has given you that advice...? He seems to be the sensible one in your partnership?"  
Helena has not lost her indignance, "It's true he has a less impulsive nature if that is what you are inferring," a pause, "However, he's not a very good scrabble opponent..."  
"Hmm, I'm guessing he doesn't challenge your snobbishness enough" Myka retorts, earns a pointed look, and it's too easy. This right now, and this morning even, is the Helena she knows. Playful, challenging and beguiling, and Myka wonders if it was a means to an end back then, too. "What do you want, Helena?" she demands.  
Helena has parked the bike up, left the engine running, and rolled back having taken off her helmet, her hair is tied up though many strands are falling loose.  
“Steve is my voice of reason,” she says, “he insists we, meaning us and the police,” she nods at Myka, “can help each other in this instance.”  
Myka regards her suspiciously, “You need information. Or, you want to know what we have on you?”  
“Oh well yes of course I’d like to know if I’m going to be arrested for something I didn’t do...” she says flippantly, eyes flaring.  
“You are not very good at building bridges,” Myka states, and Helena blows out a breath, tucks a stray hair behind her left ear and looks up begrudgingly. She shakes her head “No, I’m not. I’m not very good at this at all”  
Myka wants to ask, ‘What is _this_?’, but instead says “A place to start may be giving _us_ , the _Police_ any useful leads you and Steve have uncovered.”  
“The _Police_ , if it wasn’t you Myka…” Helena scoffs, “What makes you think we have anything useful? Personally I am starting to think it’s the last we will see of Diamond, and whoever had a hand in it.”  
Myka ignores the implication of Helena’s words, who has little faith in the Police Department, that point had been made several times. “And what of Nolan...do you continue to show an interest in his whereabouts?”  
Helena doesn’t quite smile but there is a hint of a tease in her tone, “We may have irons in the fire, Detective. If we do get a _useful_ lead….”  
Myka rolls her eyes, shakes her head, exasperated “Helena...”

Helena drops her eyes then reaches behind, opens a compartment and pulls out a spare helmet. “Let me show you something” she says. Her mouth and eyes are now rounded by soft edges, then the words tumble out, "Please, Myka"  
"I'm hardly dressed appropriately" Myka gestures to her running gear, “..and besides..”  
"It's actually only minutes away," Helena cajoles, "I promise, you will be safe with me."  
Against all her training, her instinct, her control, she wants to step forward, but she doesn’t. Instead she shakes her head “No,” and the soft, pleading features fade. Myka, relieved that Helena doesn’t press, now says, “Tell me where, and I will meet you.”  
Helena huffs out a long breath, “As you wish.” She pulls a pen from her jacket, and before Myka realises, leans to grab her left hand, and scribbles an address on the back of it.  
“You could’ve just told me” Myka says, Helena still holding her hand just shrugs, then drops it. “I’ll see you there in 30 minutes. You’d better hurry home,” she says, putting her helmet on and pushing off and away from the sidewalk.

A quick shower and change later, Myka pulls up across from the First Bank building in the centre of town and sees Helena waiting, leant against a newspaper stand. When she'd looked at the address on her hand, Myka had recognised it immediately from the robbery case notes, so when she approaches Helena she isn’t sure what to expect. "Why have you brought me here?" she whispers.  
"To make it real" Helena says, as the fading light pushes a shadow across her face. She looks beautiful, the dark and the light playing on her skin, the faintest of warm breezes teasing a strand of hair. A flicker of confusion crosses Myka's face, "Of course it's real, Helena."  
"I come here every so often, to remind myself" she murmurs, then looks into Myka’s eyes "...when I think I might forget."  
Unable to hold her gaze, Myka's eyes drift down to the faint outline of Helena’s locket where she has unzipped the top of her jacket. "You don't forget, Helena" Myka says, "You're punishing yourself."  
Helena's wry smile confirms the truth in that "But, you see, I am guilty."  
"I remember once you told me not to feel guilt..."  
Helena looks at her, rueful "...and how is that going?"  
Myka looks away, the truth is she is feeling less of the guilt, rather a melancholy at a life lost, Sam's, and the possibility of hers, with him. "I can’t speak for you but, it’s...changing."  
Helena nods, suddenly clutching at her chest, “It dulls...and yet...four years, Myka. She would have soon been a teenager...oh she was so precious, and so precocious," she chokes back a dry sob. Myka touches her arm, she can't not, but then just as suddenly pulls her hand away. "I don't doubt it" and she doesn't. 

Myka won’t tell Helena but she has seen the crime scene photos - a dark haired little girl laying on a marble floor, asleep but for an ugly bruise formed at her temple. She takes a deep breath, as Helena pulls her locket up and out, opens it at the clasp and turns it to Myka. It holds two photographs. One is of Christina, at around six, Myka guesses. She is looking directly at the camera, her hair is wet, curling up at the ends and her smile is mischievous.  
“She had been paddling at the seaside, a friend’s over-excited dog knocked her over, I swear she encouraged it,” she says fondly. The second image is of the both of them, wrapped in scarves and hats, grinning at each other. Myka can’t imagine she will ever see Helena’s smile so very bright. “My brother Charles took that, during that New Year…” she quickly sobers, clips the locket shut and places it back around her neck, hidden. 

When she speaks again, she has cleared her throat, is almost businesslike. "After it happened, I stumbled out of that bank, I was incoherent, numb,” she says. "The rage came later, and I did things I regret. If it wasn’t for Steve and the oddball work family who took me in...it would have consumed me, Myka.”  
Myka tilts her head, seeks out Helena’s eyes, “...And now?”  
Helena turns, eyes open and dark, “It’s anger, anger that he is out, anger that the authorities have failed,” she sighs. “I had been assured his appeal had no chance of success…” trailing off, she looks back at the scene of her torment.  
"Once he was caught, I didn't give it much thought, but I've always suspected it was about more than money. The robbery itself."  
This is new, Myka thinks "Why are you telling me this now?"  
"Spirit of sharing"  
“But just a hunch?” Myka says  
Helena pulls her lips across her teeth, “A hunch, yes. I remembered later, when the trial as virtually at an end - the dreams had started. There was a packet of some sort, he didn’t leave without making sure he had it."  
“Did this come up in the investigations…?” Myka asks, but Helena shakes her head. “Honestly it didn’t register, I was so focussed on Christina...and then I didn’t care because he was convicted. I don’t know if the police reports mentioned anything stolen..."  
Myka stiffens slightly, “You want me to check”  
There’s an edge to her voice now, “This, this break out, abduction, or whatever the hell it is...I’m a suspect. So yes, I need your help, Myka.” 

Myka rubs at her neck, feels a sheen of sweat beneath her hairline. When she doesn’t respond, Helena turns to her fully. “You think I’m involved.”  
“No, that’s not it. I…I've told you, Helena, I can't just feed you information. I'm compromised enough as it is..." she falters under her gaze, "I'm already compromised" she mutters to herself. The truth is, in these moments talking to her, she believes Helena unequivocally. If it had been four years ago, that Helena, in the aftermath and full of fury, that Helena she thinks would have been capable of anything.  
"I think I have to come clean. About knowing you..." she breathes, "I was mistaken not to acknowledge our...association...it should have happened straight away."  
Helena says nothing to that, "I promise you I am not involved. But as _I've_ said already, I'm involved now." She straightens, walks towards her motorcycle.  
Myka hesitates, “I’ll look into it, Helena. But...but I don’t think it’s a good idea right now, just turning up out of the blue.” _To see me._  
Helena regards her coolly, “Does that stand were I to prove my innocence - as it seems mere _circumstance_ counts for guilt these days?”  
Myka sighs, “I don't know why, because you are infuriating, but it’s not me you have to prove it to. Please don’t put yourself in danger or on the wrong side of the law to do that.”  
"I told you that you would see me differently, out here," she replies, and Myka says, "In one sense, yes. In another, no, not at all." Then she turns and walks back to her car without looking back.

That night, laying in bed, sheets thrown off, barely a breeze coming through the window, Myka struggles to sleep. She realises that she and Helena have been on fast forward whenever they’ve met, circumstances and emotions at once demand and dismiss that they slow down. Within minutes of meeting they had traded barbs then flirted, within hours they’d laughed together before revealing hints of a common pain. By the end of 24hrs they had shared intimacies and a bed, given themselves over to each other many times. Now, the sum total of her time in Helena’s presence is still just less than a week, yet she feels as if their fates are entwined, in a way that hers and Sam’s were never meant to be. He was who he was. She loved him, had know him far longer, was devastated by his death. And yet. She had control where he was concerned. It was her choice to be with him, then to stay with him through the inherent problems of his ongoing divorce. She may have ended up marrying him, content in a safe, easy love, but it would have been a choice had it not been taken from her anyway.

When she had first seen Helena again, pushing up from behind that shining motorcycle, oily rag in hand, Myka had understood that she had been waiting. Irrationally, waiting. Waiting until she somehow came into contact with 'Helena' again. She knows now that there would eventually have come a time when she actively sought her out. It had been liberating, in that private, snow enclosed world, to feel free of expectation, to let go, to have what she wanted. In the real world, with colleagues and family, with expectations, she feels the same _lack_ of control but she now has to fight it. Were Helena to _physically_ pull Myka towards her, she fears any resistance would crumble. No choice. The irony is not lost on her - clean cut, by the book Myka, who doesn’t have many relationships, finds two that compromise her professionally. 

The circumstances now are very different to with Sam, he was a colleague, also a professional. Helena is...not. The fates are cruel. Helena is being pulled backwards to a past she had yet to fully come to terms with, while Myka is stuck in a deception of her own making. She wants to confide in Pete, but to do so will draw him into that deception. To truly slow down she must disclose her association, whatever it is now, to their Captain.  
As it happens, the fates intervene and she doesn’t get chance to do that before things change dramatically. It’s almost midnight when her phone buzzes, waking her from the sleep she had only minutes before succumbed to. Tapping the screen, she answers, and hears the weary tones of Channing, the night Sergeant at the Precinct, “Detective Bering?”  
She sits up, flips the light on, eyes immediately searching for the jeans she had peeled off earlier, “Yes…?”  
“We have a body, we believe it’s one of your escapees. The coroner and CSIs are already on their way.” 

 

_**Late May 2010** _

Tired and frustrated, Helena drops her bag on Claudia’s desk, “Hey! H.G. disturbing a master at work!”  
“I do apologise” Helena snaps. Today, Claudia’s playful nature grates rather than distracts.  
”H.G.” Steve’s quiet voice admonishes from the doorway.  
Helena sighs, picks her bag up and looks at Claudia, “I’m sorry, Claudia. Not a good day, I shouldn’t take it out on you” she moves behind her chair, “What are you working on, darling?”  
Claudia grumbles, but Helena knows by now that showing an interest in her latest project is the best way to get into Claudia’s good graces. “It’s a new programme, to trawl forums, not quite perfect yet...but it will be”.  
“So, it alerts you when a keyword or phrase is used?” Helena says, and at a nod from Claudia, she looks closer at the screen. “Can you programme it to identify usernames based on set criteria...people have a habit of reusing or creating profiles based on the same details, do they not...”  
Claudia grins, gives her a double thumbs up, “You are definitely starting to think like one of us, H.G., one of the cardinal rules in our profession: people’s habits die hard.”  
“Yes, well, that’s not getting us anywhere at present” she steps away, glances at Steve who has the expression of someone with infinite patience, because he needs it. With her, with this job, with people. Patience is a virtue Helena doesn't naturally possess.

"Do you want to slug it out?" he says, and she nods. They've had a long journey back from Pueblo, after a lead placing Marcus Diamond working the boats on the Arkansas River had proved to be another fruitless one. It's late afternoon and she's tired, but this is something she can get her teeth into. In the gym across the street they change and square up across a mat. Steve is teaching her the martial art Kenpo, a defensive brand with the aim of disarming and immobilising the attacker as quickly as possible. She has discovered an aptitude for it, with quick hands, an eye for an opening and foresight to see several moves ahead of the game. It is ironic that Christina's death has led her to discover new talents, the very skills that could have saved her daughter when instead, Helena felt she did everything wrong on that fateful day. 

Today she plays the part of the aggressor, and Steve lets her vent.  
"We are getting nowhere" she puffs out, hand blocked by Steve's forearm.  
Steve swipes his leg low, planting her flat on her backside, "We are eliminating his options one by one, H.G."  
"You say this every time" she holds a hand out, asking to be pulled upright.  
"I speak the truth" he plants his legs firm, bracing for her attempt to pull him down.  
"This...Sykes, his name has come up twice now. I think we should look into that."  
Steve pulls her up with his right hand, and she connects with a right fist to his shoulder, before he yanks her hand down and twists it around her back. "We stay away from him, H.G. The police have spoken to him, we leave it at that, for now.”  
Twisting her neck, Helena protests but Steve remains implacably stubborn on this point. They don’t go near Sykes, it’s too risky, it's not necessary. Not yet.  
“You aren’t concentrating” he says as he floors her for the third time. “Let’s call it a day”.

When she arrives back to her short lease apartment that night, Helena fires up her laptop and looks for the latest communications from her brother. She has been doing some editing for him, and starting to plan out their joint effort. It gives her a temporary escape of sorts, and as she rarely goes to bed before 1am, a means to pass the time. In a perfect world, Christina would be alive, and they would be home now, enjoying springtime in England, taking shopping trips into London, and decorating Christina’s bedroom as they’d planned. In this imperfect world, all she wants is to see Marcus Diamond behind bars. In her darker hours she would see him suffer pain beyond measure, and it scares her. This odd family of bounty hunters she has taken up with have welcomed the retainer she has placed with them, but they have welcomed her too, they ground her and keep her in touch with her humanity. Arthur is a cantankerous but shrewd bondsman, his knowledge of the good, the bad and the ugly side of the law is unparalleled. The fondness between him and Claudia is apparent for anyone to see in their constant bickering and his half smiling, begrudging praise of her work. Steve and Claudia are permanent fixtures, though there are also many freelancers who take on work. Steve is training Claudia gradually in fieldwork, as a young, intelligent, tech savvy woman she has an aptitude for investigation, though her exuberance could get her in trouble, Helena thinks. 

By tagging along with Steve in their search for Diamond, she is also learning the tricks of the trade, whilst drawing on his inner calm when she fears she will lose herself to fury and grief. Despite her protests that it was a waste of her time, they have pursued and brought in three bail jumpers together. Steve has been impressed with her improvisation in tight situations and in gathering information from unlikely sources. The Wells charm she inherited from her father was coming in very handy for purposes other than negotiating with her old university professors, her brothers publisher, and the occasional companion she had picked up over the years. In more surreptitious activities, her now distant university background in mechanics has proven useful.  
“Is this legal? Does your agent licence allow this?” she’d whispered as she lifted the catch on a Lincoln Navigator, and then hotwired it. Steve had coughed into his hand, “Umm, no. But sometimes we need to bend the rules a little, H.G.” and she’d grunted, “I can live with that." She’d even identified a fault in his motorcyle and fine tuned its efficiency.  
“You are a woman of many talents H.G.” Claudia had said with an approving smirk as Steve relayed this one day, “You should ask Artie for a job, you know, once…” she’d trailed off and Helena, in a moment of clarity had realised there was nothing for her beyond this hunt.

Now sat, lonely and alone, she opens a drawer that has remained closed since she moved in a month ago, and pulls out the locket Christina had picked out for her Grandma. Tears streaming down her face, she cuts two favourite photographs of her daughter into shape and places them into either side. “I’ll keep you close, my little one. You must look after me, now,” she whispered. She would never forget, and she believed the guilt she felt would never fade, but the memories these images evoked would give her some comfort - in the knowledge that while she lived, Christina knew she was loved, and lived life to the full. 

Returning to the laptop, she pulls up a profile of Walter Sykes, property developer and apparent occasional employer of Marcus Diamond. Steve has told her that Sykes is, behind the scenes, an unscrupulous individual, his legitimate businesses a front for criminal activity. There are rumours that he has a few beat cops on his payroll and, whether true or not, it is enough to give Steve pause for thought. Helena takes note of his business addresses and checks photographs of public events he has attended, with the intention of approaching him. She is not naive, but she is impatient and impulsive, blinded by her all consuming need to find Diamond, and so the advice of the professionals falls by the wayside.

The following day, she tells Arthur, Claudia and Steve that she is to visit her brother in Denver for a week, on business that will be best done in person. She ignores a curious look from Steve, it is a half truth, and so he can most likely spot that something is not quite right. He doesn't challenge her, just nods and urges her to take care and get in touch if she needs them for anything. She flies out to Denver, stays with Charles for a few days - as much as she can bear in the company of him, his wife and their three year old boy. It is unfair on them. They are welcoming, supportive and once, in a different time, genuinely fun to be with. But the tiptoeing, the whispered conversations and the happy giggles of her nephew erode at the walls she has built. So, with a promise to visit again soon she leaves for Colorado Springs. Sykes is due to speak at a public business convention, for which she only needs a thirty dollar ticket. 

Two days on, Helena is stood listening to an architect drone on about sustainability through design. She would find it interesting if she weren’t so distracted by the man slowly meandering along the exhibition stands, closely followed by two suited ‘assistants’. As Walter Sykes and the business types fawning around him approach, Helena straightens, flips her hair back and laughs, as if the architect has engaged her in an amusing tale. She turns as she does so, smile wide, eyes sparkling as she engages with Sykes now attentive gaze. She knows she is attractive, and so when she turns fully and exclaims, “Mr Sykes! I did enjoy your talk..actually I had hoped to take a moment of your time…”, he takes in her low cut blouse and pencil skirt, the allure of her accent, and subtly holds his hand up to prevent his guards dogs from stepping in.  
“I’m glad to hear it, Ms….?”  
“George. Ms George. But call me Helen,” she smiles, holding out her fingers which he takes, his too warm hand lingering before releasing her own back to her.  
“There is a networking event in the bar at the end of the day, perhaps I shall see you then?”  
Her stomach is churning, his demeanour is almost predatory and already she wonders if she is biting off more than she can chew. She inclines her head, “Of course, I’ll be there, thank you,” and she passes him a card. “Just in case” she says, and he gives her a more scrutinizing look, as if sensing there is more to her than he originally assumed.

Four hours later, she finds herself in a tricky situation, sat in a private booth in the dimly hotel bar, sandwiched between Walter Sykes and one of his so called assistants.  
“It was a nice try, _Ms George_ ” Sykes is saying, “but did you really think I wouldn’t have your credentials checked out?”  
He tosses the fake business card onto the table, leans across her so that his face is inches away. She can feel his breath hit her skin and she closes her eyes, willing away the fear that grows in her chest, concentrating instead on the reason she is there.  
“I am a respectable businessman, but there are people who believe I have wronged them. Hence my friend here,” he gestures towards the silent, burly man alongside her. “So you see why I am cautious with new acquaintances…”  
Seeing an opportunity to rescue something by playing along with his ‘respectable’ line, Helena musters her courage, opens her eyes and puts on her haughtiest tone, “It is very difficult to get a suitable appointment at your office, Mr Sykes. I had to resort to more nefarious methods, I hope you appreciate my initiative.”  
He laughs, his cold amusement causing him to lean back, appraising her as he did earlier. “Very well, you have a moment of my time. Your real name would be a start. Make it good.”  
She pushes both hands up and through her hair, “My name is Helena Wells” she says in more appeasing tones, “...I’m sorry that my approach has unnerved you, Mr Sykes, but I am hoping that you can help me.”  
She can tell that his interest is piqued, but is under no illusion that were she a man, his patience would be less forthcoming. She decides the straightforward approach is best.  
“My daughter was killed a number of months ago, in a bank robbery in the centre of town,” she pauses, sees the faintest hint of realisation in his eyes, and presses on as if oblivious. “A former employee of yours is wanted for questioning, he is the prime suspect. As the police are seemingly incompetent, I have been trying to locate him myself.” She doesn’t yet mention that she knows the police have already spoken to Sykes, with no success.  
“I see” he says, clearly calculating, “You are referring to Marcus, I take it. What makes you think that I can assist you in finding him?” 

She hasn't really planned this, she is inexperienced in these games but has been told she's a natural, and so now she hopes that relying on her wits is enough.  
"I hope to appeal to your good nature, Mr Sykes. Mr Diamond, I believe, was under your wing for a while, having a troubled start in life...?" She phrases it as a question, though she knows the truth in it. Diamond, a wayward teen in foster care, had clearly displayed potential to Sykes, his deceased father's employer. The man himself purses his lips, as if deciding whether the woman before him is truly only a grieving, desperate mother, or something more.  
"It's true that I tried to set him on a better path, Helena. But that does not mean we have been in contact recently. You understand, I have no knowledge of his criminal activity."  
For now, she is getting Walter Sykes the property magnet. Always distancing himself, the upstanding member of the business community. That's not really who can help her, it's a dangerous line to walk, but she has to press. "I only wish to see justice for my daughter, and if you still feel any semblance of a paternalistic relationship to him, I hope that you would see him safe and not eternally on the run."  
She winces inside at the clumsiness, and rages against her next words, but she speaks them, "I would like to know that he regrets what he did, so that I can forgive him, move on. You, I am sure would like to see him have a chance at getting himself back on track."  
Sykes smirks, "You were doing so well...now...I would like the truth"

Irritated with herself for being unprepared, she takes a few moments, then scowls, "Fine. I would see him behind bars...if he were to get hurt or worse in the process, I would not mourn him."  
He nods, "Now that sounds more like it, Helena." His casual familiarity is cloying, as he again leans close, "I am in a good mood today, so how about a little deal."  
She unconsciously clenches her fists, a feeling of dread and utter vulnerability settling over her. But he does not go down the path she expects.  
"It's unlikely you will be able to hold up your end of the deal, but I like a no-risk gamble," he sneers, "I have someone I would like to locate, who is proving elusive, perhaps a different perspective will prove fruitful. You bring me him, and I will endeavour to locate our dear friend Marcus."  
She hadn't expected him to give her Diamond on a plate, but until this moment she hadn't been sure how far she would have gone to get to him. This offer from Sykes is suddenly the best lead she has had since enlisting the help of Arthur and co, so she nods slowly, "Who?"  
"His name is James McPherson" Sykes says.  
Helena can't help herself, she laughs, short and sharp. "He is missing, presumed dead, there was a body. I saw it on the news last week - a fire at one of his warehouses?"  
"Presumed" Sykes smiles.  
"Ok," she says, "Ok."

James McPherson was, is, a prominent local businessman, a dealer in manufacturing imports and exports. Not unlike Sykes, he has a reputation for shady activities, and the fire at a warehouse he owned was under investigation for arson. It now seemed that McPherson may have used it as a means to disappear, especially if he is on the radar of Walter Sykes. Helena has made a pact with one devil, she just needs to convince Steve that McPherson is _the_ devil that will lead them to Diamond, without involving the name of Walter Sykes.


	6. Lockup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discovery of a body leads to more questions than answers.

It's grim, and Myka has seen plenty of crime scenes. Correction, murder scenes. She and Pete arrived to the sight of the alleyway blocked off. Two patrol cars, the van of the crime scene investigators and an ambulance parked haphazardly around the entrance. Flashing her badge, stepping under the tape, Myka saw the bright spotlights set in place by Abigail and Liam, who stand looking into the fourth lockup along, it's garage style door pulled up to full height. "Maaan, I hate this part" Pete said, unnecessarily zipping up the front of his lightweight jacket. Swallowing thickly, Myka agreed, "Yeah, me too."  
The few smears of blood on the floor led her eyes along and towards the sight of Marcus Diamond, because it _was_ him. He was slumped in a cheap metal chair, the type to be found in one of these new retro restaurants popping up all over town, serving expensive burgers in a setting meant to be reminiscent of high school. Myka would never understand people's desire to hark back to their high school days. Diamond's hands were bound behind the chair, his legs tied one to either side, his head was dropped back but tilted towards them. His eyes stared into oblivion, and with a dissatisfied grunt, Myka observed bruising around his temples. Her mind flashed to Christina, and despite his current situation, Myka could see that Diamond was a large man, hands like spades, with a powerful body. She'd had no chance, and no matter how Helena berated herself, Myka realised that she too may have been a fatal victim if she had taken him on.

"We must stop meeting like this" Pete said as they drew level with Abigail, who clicked her tongue against her teeth, "Sorry, Lattimer, I asked to be called for any incidents relating to this case, so you'll just have to put up with me."  
"Now that's a hardship" he faux grimaced, and Myka was irritated by their light flirting with the sight before them, despite the knowledge that Pete did this to cope with the grim side of the job.  
"Have you anything for us?" She interjected more harshly than intended, and Liam smirked as Abigail became instantly business like.  
“A mostly incoherent phone tip came in about sighting a green van - using this lock up last week. It’s a quiet night, so Patrol have been following up on the more vague police hotline tips. They hit jackpot tonight.”  
"We've had a cursory walk around, and we're about to get down to business now we have some decent light on the situation," Liam says, "Would you two like to take a look first?"  
Pete steps back, "I think I'll keep my clumsy feet out of there."  
Though thoroughly unpleasant, Myka always walks the scene if possible, while Pete talks to any loitering bystanders in the street trying to gauge if any, in his words 'give me the creeps'. Liam has already pulled out some foot bags, gloves and a face mask for Myka and he silently hands them to her, fully aware that she knows procedure.

The weather has been warm and the body has been there for days, it is a crime scene techs dream, or nightmare dependent on their perspective. The motorcycle is there, but there is no helmet, it's rear storage compartment open and empty. There are some bloody rags strewn about the floor, and a workbench to the rear has tools stored in an open metal container, some lay on the surface. Pliers, a short saw, nails, a hammer and incongruously a steak knife with a dried dark brown crust along its edge. Very likely this was used on Diamond, he has jagged cuts up his arms and across his bare chest, for he is naked from the waist up.  
"He was tortured, it seems" Liam breaks the silence, he is stood at the edge, while Abigail is pulling out a different lens for her camera.  
"Any idea how long he's been here, like this" Myka says, stepping carefully around to the desk behind the body.  
"Well until the coroner examines, obviously we can't be sure, but best guess is a good 72 hours" Abigail says.  
_Thursday night_ Myka thinks, _the night I visited Helena_. "So abducted Wednesday morning, dead by Thursday night?" she says, and looks out to Pete who is on the phone.  
"It's looking likely" Liam says, as Myka notices a small slip of paper stuck under the leg of the desk, which has clearly been moved at some point, drag marks evident on the floor. It's folded, and she can make out the pale marks of printed numbers through the thin paper. "You got this?" she asked Abigail, who nods an _of course_ in her direction. "It's not dirty, could be fairly recent" Myka says, and Abigail gestures to Liam "Bag it will you, before Little Miss Curiosity bursts." Myka frowns and Abigail just smiles innocently, before Liam is there, tweezers and bag in hand, "You lift, slowly" he says.  
When he unfolds the paper, Myka's stomach lurches. It's a receipt, the date is for Thursday morning, the till was rung up at 8:55am, for tea, juice, a 'breakfast sundry', and 'sandwich of the day'. The name at the top: The Roadside Diner, Briargate, Colorado Springs.  
"Abigail" she manages, "Can you...?" Myka gestures to the camera in Abigail's hand before picking her way out into the night, pulling the mask off, gasping for air. Turning her head she sees Pete sat on the hood of her car, reading a newspaper. As she slowly approaches, she sees the headline, a controversy about public land sales, and below _'Secure no more?'_ a comment piece about prison and police funding. She sucks in a long breath and Pete looks up, "These reporters know know jack sh...." he sees her face - pale and shocked. "Hey, you ok?"  
"Yes. Empty stomach I think" she bluffs, but she knows she needs to talk to him, and after barely six months together, she trusts him - if he is one thing it's loyal to his partner.  
He peers at her, "That's probably a good thing right now" he says, then after a long pause, "Mykes. What is it?"

Thirty minutes later they are sat in her car, Myka is sipping at a bottle of water from the 24/7 market store across the street, Pete gulps at a soda can. He's seen the receipt on the camera screen, it's significance clear. His expression is steely, but his eyes soften as he watches Myka, he senses she is struggling with something.  
"I know H.G." she blurts, "What I mean to say is I knew her. Before this case."  
Slowly, Pete turns to her, "Go on."  
Myka feels confusion and trepidation rolling of him in waves, "She and I, we met last December - when I was doing the whole Ranger thing."  
"Then why didn't you say something, either of you?"  
She looks away from his gaze, palms flat to her face before pushing them up over the top of her head. "I don't know...embarrassment...shock, perhaps?"  
His eyes widen, the penny dropping "What, why....? Oh."  
"Yeah" she sighs, "Oh."  
"Holy Cow...you...and her?"  
"Geeze Pete. Yes"  
His face veers between a grin, a grimace and a frown, "Wow, well props to you Myka...but...wow...I knew there was some weird tension, but I don't know I just thought, I don't know...this is serious"  
"Even more so now," she pushes forward in her seat, "I'm such a fool, Pete. I'm sorry, I should've been open from the start."  
She fights the stinging in her eyes, she can't fall into self pity, she needs to think clearly.  
"Ok," he says, "Let's think about..."  
"Wait" she says, "There's more. I went to see her on Thursday night, after I checked her alibi at that diner. God, it gets better..."  
He says, "Frederic needs to know" and when she nods, "H.G. will be brought it for questioning, whether it's by us or someone else."  
Myka pulls herself up, re-ties her hair, "I hope I don't regret this, but...I don't actually think she did it. I know that receipt is really incriminating....but, I just don't."  
"Evidence, Mykes. The holy grail."  
She smiles at his reference to her own mantra, "Yeah, I know. What does _your_ gut say?"  
He smiles back, "Honestly? I don't know what to think. _You_ are normally my control...and in this case I think you're a little..."  
"Compromised?"  
He crushes the soda can, drops it in the pop-up trashcan Myka keeps in the footwell, "Not that. I think...I think you are emotionally invested, that it was more than just a one night stand type thing. I don't think that's you."  
"I surprised myself, believe me" she coughs, embarrassed. "Pete, I spoke to her Thursday, and this afternoon too, while I'm giving you this confessional. Stop pulling that face...I _know_. I know how it seems, but when we've spoken..." a loud sigh "...I feel like maybe four years ago, right after, she could have been quite capable of taking out her rage on him, but now, she's reconciled to him _just_ being in prison."  
"You don't know what people will do if presented with the chance, Mykes," Pete says.  
Myka feels the twinge of tension across her forehead, shouldn't she feel better, having unburdened herself to Pete? She has kept information from him and he has been supportive and non-judgemental, he needed to be her voice of reason now. That receipt didn't mean Helena had tortured and killed Marcus Diamond, but it implicated her, when Myka believed in her innocence. That belief was shaken, but not gone. 

There's a knock on the car window, it's Abigail, she's wiping her brow with a cloth, squinting into the car. Lowering the window, Myka draws in a breath as Abigail launches rapid fire into it once the gap is wide enough, "Ok, we're going to be here for a while...the coroner has just arrived, she agrees with us - preliminary guestimate at a time of death - sometime between late Thursday night, very early Friday morning."  
Myka glances at Pete, who realises the significance of the timing. Thursday night. Abigail continues, "It looks likely to be a seizure of some kind, possibly a heart attack brought on by..."  
"The Xylazine?" Myka interrupts  
"Yes...but until the autopsy we can't be certain. Given a day, you'll have a more specific time frame to work with."  
Pete says, "Thanks - call us when you have anything, yeah?" and Abigail gives them both a thumbs up before heading back to her work at the scene.  
"Home for a few hours or straight to the precinct?" Pete's definitely getting to know her well, because when she gives him a roll of her eyes he says, "Station it is then..."

At around 7:30am, they've have a few hours rest in the break room, and Captain Frederic arrives to see them by the vending machine, yawning and swirling their weak cups of coffee. She gestures for them to follow her, and once in her office she says, "Tell me."  
Myka gratefully lets Pete take the lead, delaying the inevitable, but eventually the Captain looks pointedly at her, "Why haven't you brought her in for questioning yet?"  
"We...thought it would be best to await preliminary findings from the techs and the coroner," Pete says, and is about to continue but is cut off by the flipped right hand of Captain Frederic.  
"Detective Bering" she says carefully, "I find it odd how quiet you are, I can't ever recall you leaving it all to Detective Lattimer here." Her tone is not unkind, if anything it's a little amused as she looks between them.  
Myka falters then plunges ahead, "I need to disclose something first..." then looks at Pete who jumps up, "I'll just step out.." he says, nodding at their Captain who straightens even more so in her seat. Myka takes a deep breath, fearing the worst, disappointment in the eyes of her superior, disciplinary action, being taken off the case. She gives as dispassionate an account as she can muster - how she met Helena Wells, and how the first time she had spoken to her since December, or even knew who she was, was the Thursday morning when she and Pete went to the hotel. Captain Frederic remains impassive throughout, as Myka details their conversations since the case broke, attempting not to reveal any feelings she may or may not have towards Helena.  
"Let me get this clear," the Captain says eventually, "You have not, at any point, disclosed any information pertaining to the case?"  
"No," Myka says firmly  
Glaring hard at Myka, Frederic purses her lips, "Also, you have not resumed your...relations?"  
Myka, more firmly, "No."  
"Thank you for coming to me with this, Detective, although the timing is unfortunate," she leans forward onto the desk, steepling her hands together. "This is not good, but not altogether bad either." The Captain isn't necessarily angry, she appears more...calculating.  
Myka preempts what she believes is the inevitable, "I can hand over to Detective Poulsen, he's a good match with Pete, or whoever you say..."  
"Detective, stop." Frederic leans back again, offers a faint smile, "I think that you are perfectly capable of being professional in this situation. It shouldn't preclude you doing your job - and to be perfectly frank with you, I want my best detectives on this."  
"But..." Myka finds herself cut off just as Pete was.  
"Unless you are telling me that you cannot be professional?" Frederic's eyes bore into her, this stare is feared throughout the force, but oddly it brings to mind the calm, implacable expression of Steve Jinks.  
"No, I'm not. I will say that from the conversations I have relayed to you, I err on the side of her not being involved, Captain. I think there is more going on here, the evidence just hasn't revealed itself."  
"This may work in our favour - you having her confidence, to an extent. Bring her in without letting her think she needs to lawyer up...it gives us more time for questioning.' Captain Frederic smiles, it's knowing, it's police work, turning a situation to their advantage - sometimes personal knowledge can be used in an interview room.  
"Go now, with Pete, before the night's discovery becomes common knowledge. Evidence, Myka, evidence." With that, Myka finds herself dismissed, a little in shock at the turn the conversation took, and a little perturbed that she was in effect being asked to use this _relationship_ , and Helena's apparent trust in her.

  
_**Early June 2010** _

"Remind me why we are here, H.G." Steve tugs at his shirt collar, uncomfortable in the black tux he is wearing. They are at a private party in one of the more exclusive Las Vegas clubs.  
"Darling, you are my escort for the evening..." she whispers into his ear as they stroll through the crowd towards the bar. "Whiskey over ice" she says to the barman who takes a surreptitious glance at her revealing plum satin dress.  
"Make that two," Steve says to him, before whispering back into her ear, "I doubt very much that I can give you what you want H.G." and she chuckles, keeping up their appearance as a wealthy visitor and her acquired and paid for paramour.  
Pushing away, she drags him by the hand to stand by the only remaining table, it has a view of the bar, the entrance and the gents toilets.  
"This will do nicely," she smiles at Steve, thinking how young he looks, clean shaven and not wearing leathers. They've been looking for McPherson for a few weeks, and incredibly, they are already getting close. A very lucky break due to an overheard conversation at one of his old haunts in Denver has led them back to, of all places, Las Vegas. McPherson, it seems, could not and still cannot deny himself the finer things in life, he was an occasional attendee of parties organised by someone known on the circuit only as 'Stefan', and this was the first one for a few months. It's only weeks after his disappearance and Helena hopes the temptation proves too much. 

Convincing Steve they needed to pursue the ghost of McPherson had been made easier by reports that it was now suspected he had set the fire himself, he was apparently under investigation for illegal imports and tax evasion. She had realised that pulling the wool over Steve's eyes wouldn't be easy and so had told an approximation of the truth: she _had_ approached Sykes through his office, and, while not speaking to him herself, had been given the message that Diamond had done legitimate work for James McPherson also. That, combined with the reward that had been posted for information leading to McPherson, had been enough to convince a sceptical Steve Jinks. Arthur had seen dollar signs, and so they had switched their attention to him just a few days after she herself had returned from Colorado.

They dance, they switch to lime sodas after one more whiskey, and they watch, while occasionally whispering to each other in apparent intimacy. Both she and Steve have to rebuff advances from other partygoers, a handsome couple included, for it is that type of party. When a lone, tall, female approaches her very late on, Helena is _almost, almost_ tempted. Tempted to forget for one night, but as she is about to turn to Steve, arching her brow in question, she spies James McPherson himself, emerging from a door to the side of the bar - the entrance to a series of discreet rooms. Her questioning gaze turned into a frown, "Steve" she hissed, tilting her head in the direction of their quarry, before swinging back to the woman's now confused face, "Sorry darling, another time maybe..?" she brazenly pecks her cheek before quickly following Steve, who was already purposefully moving through the crowd. 

As they near the bar, the lights in the club dim dramatically as the PA announces the entrance of an entertainment act, and Helena loses sight of both Steve and McPherson, but doggedly ploughs forward. She's jostled as circus entertainers start to move through the crowd, but her eye is drawn to the fire exit sign ahead and suddenly there is a brief burst of light below it - someone has burst through the door. When she emerges the other side of the same exit, she's in a bright corridor, another door at the end leads out onto a metal stairway. The air is cloying, and looking down, she's one flight above three overflowing dumpsters, but there is also a car parked and she sees a man opening the driver's side door. She scrambles down the stairs, cursing the heels she's wearing, her breath ragged as she almost falls to the floor at the bottom. The car's engine remained idle, and so, not thinking, she pushed alongside it, pulled the door open and grabbed the startled man inside, yanking him out onto the garbage strewn floor. It's not McPherson, but the face is familiar, thin and weasley, so she reasons that she saw him alongside McPherson earlier.  
"What the!" he whines, covering his face with both arms, his legs windmilling as he struggles to gain purchase on the ground to push away. _Weasel by nature_ she thinks, and drops down, grabbing his arms, pushing her knees to his chest. She's thankful for the lessons Steve has been giving her, because, adrenaline fueled, she has the confidence to physically intimidate and subdue.  
"Silence!" she growls, then in flat tones, eyeing him closely, "McPherson?" When his eyes widen slightly in alarm, she knows she has her man. She twists one of his arms across his own neck, pressing as she leans down to whisper into his ear, "I just want McPherson. Now I'm going to let you speak, you would be well advised to be quiet about it."  
She feels him nod and releases the pressure so that he splutters and croaks, "I just drive him, that's all. He'll be waiting for me now..." another cough. She spies a shard of glass on the floor below the car and, steeling herself, reaches for it, tearing her dress on the rough edge of the chassis. Holding it up to his face, her hand shaking, she steadies her voice, "You are going to be fine, _if_ you tell me where he is staying. That is, where he will be staying tonight and tomorrow night."  
The weasel starts to shake his head, "I can't..." She hisses, pushes down on his neck again, rifles through his pockets, pulls out a wallet and one-handed pulls out cards, "So, Mitchell," she says, eyeing his driver licence, "I pay you a visit, or I pay him a visit. Your choice." She very deliberately moves the glass down as he watches, her hand stops at his groin area and she presses the point into a sensitive spot and he whimpers, high pitched, before he's nodding frantically. He gives her the name of a hotel, "He's there for three more nights, I swear it."  
"Thank you Mitchell," she smiles, "I'll keep this," she says, standing up, his licence in hand. 

Helena barely holds herself still as he drives off, then she stumbles back against a wall, shaking. She's not sure who she is right now, vengeful demon, grieving mother, friend or deceiver. When Steve finds her, she couldn't say how long she has been there, she swallows down her guilt, hoping her agitated state hides her evasion when she tells him she followed someone but they knocked her down as they drove off. His concern for her evident, Steve accepted it, as he checked her over physically. "No broken bones" he murmured, shaking his head, "You need to be more careful, out here H.G." 

She hides her face, because he's kicking himself for losing her and being in danger as a result, when in reality he is teaching her too well. He had lost McPherson at the same time as she had, had checked out front and even returned to check the back rooms, dodging the handsome couple again for his troubles. When Steve left briefly to retrieve his motorcycle, Helena pulled out a disposable phone from her purse, and sent a quick text to the one number held in it. She then removed the sim card, snapped it in two and threw it into one of the dumpsters - tomorrow morning's collection day clearly stamped on it's side.

  
_**Present Day** _

If Helena sticks to her professed morning routine, she will be arriving back at her hotel apartment shortly, having gone out for breakfast. She and Pete have freshened up, and Myka has forced a croissant down. Captain Frederic has briefed them, having spoken to ADA St Clair. "Tread very carefully," Frederic had said, "Rebecca is going to speak to DA Kosan, accusing a victim's mother is a very newsworthy story."  
Myka had bitten her tongue and remained silent at her Captain's stating of the obvious, and she and Pete were now sat awaiting the roar of a motorcycle to signal the start of another difficult day. Trying to reassure her, Pete said, "It's good that St Clair is involved, she seemed pretty clued up on H.G., having prosecuted Diamond. I think they even became friends of a sort."  
"Yeah" Myka is only half listening, because she hears it, the thrum of an engine slowing, before accelerating around a corner. Then, there she is.

She circles once, coming to a stop alongside Myka's open window. She doesn't get off the bike, she doesn't turn the engine off, she just flips the visor as she had done yesterday. Her eyes are clear and more brown than black in the light of the morning sun, her lips quirk in question. "Detectives...do you have news for me?"  
Myka knows she is alluding to their conversation yesterday, but ignores it. Any power Helena may think she has due to a secret knowledge of their liaison is now gone. She has power, but it's not that anymore.  
"We need you to come down to the station Helena. To confirm some details and we have a few more questions," Myka hasn't taken off her shades, and is surprised at how steady she sounds. When Helena hesitates, clearly wondering what has happened, Pete says, "Is that going to be ok, H.G.?" His tone suggests that it has to be.  
"I can sense that you are not going to be forthcoming, were I to ask why," sighing she flicks the kickstand on her bike, "Lead the way."  
"You know our precinct, Helena," Myka says, hiding her relief that she seems to be in a compliant mood.  
"But I would like to follow your lead, Detective Bering, the view will be so much better," she smirks, but Myka sees the slight insecurity in her eyes before she pulls the visor down.  
"If she did kill him, she's very cold about it," Pete says, "Hot. But cold."

At the station, Helena is sat waiting in an interview room, she has unzipped her jacket fully to reveal a tight, low top, and sits cross legged, a finger draws a line back and forth along the edge of the table. Myka watches through the one way glass, Pete and Captain Frederic by her side. "She's getting impatient," Pete says.  
"I'm surprised it took this long" says Myka, forcing herself to detach from any sense of knowing the woman behind the glass.  
Their Captain speaks now, "Detective Lattimer, I want you to commence the interview alone."  
Myka feels slighted, "But..."  
"Detective Lattimer, if you will..."  
Pete shrugs at Myka, picks up a file from the desk behind and leaves the room, to reappear next door seconds later.  
Helena's eyes narrow when she sees Pete enter alone, and she brings both her hands into her lap. "How long will you be keeping me here, for these _routine_ questions?"  
"As long as it takes," Pete drops the file down onto the table between them, "First, please confirm the make and licence plates of any vehicles registered to your name."

Pete continues working through standard questions about her motorcycle, her places of residence, her brother, her job and associations. When Pete suddenly says, "Thank you, now we need to go over, in detail, your movements last Tuesday evening through Friday morning," she glares at him, but starts to recite her movements as she has done before, interspersed with more detail as Pete probes. When it comes to the now crucial Thursday evening, Helena glances over to the smoked glass, and though she can't see Myka, her eyes do meet hers. It's unnerving and Myka looks away briefly, until Helena speaks. 

"I was in my apartment until around 9:30pm, but then I left to meet my colleague, Steve Jinks, in Denver," she pauses, "Something's happened. Tell me, why am I being questioned now?"  
Pete rolls out the pat phrases about routine, details, ongoing investigations, while Captain Frederic says quietly to Myka, "I want you to be the one to tell her about Diamond, Detective Bering. I think we may need you in there sooner than I thought."  
When Helena refuses to continue, is on the brink of issuing a demand for her lawyer, Myka enters the interview room with a cup of tea and places it in front of her before sitting alongside Pete.  
"No thank you," Helena looks at the drink in disgust, then raises her eyes to Myka's. "Are you good cop or bad cop?"  
"I'm just a Detective, Helena, wanting to ask some questions," she leans forward slightly, "will you answer them?"  
Helena barely shakes her head, "No, not playing, _Detective_. I fear you have me at a disadvantage."  
Pete sighs, "H.G. the sooner we get through this, the sooner..."  
"I can go. Apparently. I have come freely, because I have done nothing wrong, I have answered your questions because I have nothing to hide." She leans forward now, addresses Myka directly, there is no humour, playfulness or warmth now. "So, unless you answer my question, I shall be doing precisely what you are trying to avoid. Mr. Secord has always been very amenable, he can be here within twenty minutes should I request him."  
Myka hates herself for this, and though intending to keep her voice neutral, she hears it gradually soften, because she knows this news will stir emotions in Helena. "Marcus Diamond was found dead early this morning. That is your answer, Helena. This is now a murder investigation."  
At first, her face remains blank, then it twists, her voice cracks, "No...no." Leaning back, unconsciously running her hands through her hair, Helena becomes more agitated as she considers the implications of what she has been told. "No" she says again, "He can't be. He shouldn't be free..."  
Myka had almost forgotten Pete was at her side, she feels him glance at her, but she can't take her eyes from Helena. He says, "He's not free, he's dead."  
Helena's ire is instant, she twists her head suddenly toward Pete, "He _is_ free!" she crys, "He's free of any misery, any pain. He is free of any guilt."  
Myka understands, in Helena's eyes death is a release. Living with consequences is the punishment. After a moment, she asks, "Thursday evening, Helena, after we spoke, you left straight after. What were your movements for the rest of that night?"  
Lost in thought, she doesn't answer and Myka repeats her question more firmly. Helena shoots her a confused look, then one of resignation as she realises the import of Myka's words, spoken in the company of Pete and whoever is behind the glass.  
"After you came to see me at my hotel on Thursday evening, Detective Bering, I left at approximately 9:30, as I believe I have already said." She smooths her hair, the outburst of a few moments ago seemingly pushed aside, and Myka knows she is now fuelled by indignation, "I went directly to Denver to meet with Steve, he wasn't at his hotel so I took a ride around the city to clear my head." She pauses, "I needed to process....my thoughts...anyhow, I arrived back at Steve's hotel at midnight. I remember because he told me so in no uncertain terms when I knocked on his door and interrupted his 'liaison'."  
"Obviously, we'll speak with Steve," Myka says, ignoring Helena's stare and fighting the flush of warmth at her neck, "Why did you go to see him so late?"  
"Because Myk...Detective Bering, that day you had informed me of Marcus Diamond's escape, and I knew Steve was due in Denver that evening for a job. I knew I wouldn't sleep, I had to _do_ something," Myka winces, the unspoken _remember_ hanging in the air.

There's a knock on the door and a uniformed officer enters, requesting Pete and Myka's attention elsewhere. Next door, ADA St Clair is now stood with the Captain.  
"I decided to come see for myself" Rebecca says, "I've spoken to DA Kosan, we are in agreement - if you need to, arrest and hold her for 48hrs. There's enough to be concerned about."  
Pete says, "She will be asking for this lawyer, Secord, soon. We should work on the assumption that she will be free to go or on bail by Wednesday."  
Myka remains quiet, tugging at her hair, she is impatient to confirm or disprove Helena's accounts, then Rebecca says, "How soon will CSI have anything for us? This receipt, it's not really enough, not on it's own - and Secord is very good. Let me know if you need a search warrant for her apartment, if she starts to be uncooperative."  
Myka pushes away from the door she's been leaning against,"We are waiting on a call from the lab," she frowns at the faces in the room, "You are talking as if you think we have our killer."  
Rebecca smiles, "No, Myka, I'm talking as if I want to be sure we have the right person. I would be very happy for you to rule Helena Wells out of this investigation. In fact, is she the only iron in the fire?"  
Now Myka twists her mouth. "No other useful leads yet, we've had people talking to his ex-associates, including Sykes who visited him in prison several times - and I'm not totally happy with his answers by the way..." she says, "...but H.G. mentioned a detail to me yesterday - about the robbery, she recalls Diamond taking a package of some kind..."  
Rebecca looks at Myka sharply, "She said that? That was not part of her statement, or the investigations Detective, I should know."  
"I know - she said it's a detail she remembered once she was able to look back with more clarity - but years later it hadn't seemed relevant until now. Was there a list of missing items, I didn't see one in the case file?" Captain Frederic clucks, "Are you sure this is not an attempt by Wells to divert your focus, Detective Bering?"  
Myka doesn't flinch, "Honestly, no, I don't"  
Rebecca St Clair interjects, "Ok, there _is_ a list of bank clients holding safe deposit boxes at the time, but none of them reported anything missing. As I recall, Diamond forced the manager to give him the master keys, then locked him in a back office - the manager never saw which, if any, boxes he accessed."  
"Let's prioritise the person we have in that room right now, and checking what we need to," Captain Frederic says, "...then _additional_ leads on Diamond can be explored."  
Rebecca nods, but addresses Myka, "I'm going to look into this, it could also be pertinent to the Aquino investigation."  
Myka looks at her Captain, a challenge in her eye, "So, lets get on with it this," she sweeps her arm in a motion to encompass them, the interview room, Helena. Unfortunate as it is for Marcus Diamond, his death has set the wheels in motion again. This, Myka can do, she has realised, now that her initial shock has waned. Helena may feel unreasonably aggrieved that their recent conversations are now common knowledge, but Myka is still on the case and she will get to the truth.

They agree to send Myka back in alone after a timely update from Abigail, but the first thing Helena says is, "Am I under arrest?"  
"No"  
"Then I am free to go?"  
Myka sighs, "We have some more questions now, it would be to both our benefits if you were to answer them."  
Helena gazes at her for a long moment, then removes her jacket, the tight, low cut blue top revealing freckles Myka was once familiar with. "Like I said, I've nothing to hide, let's see how we go, Detective."  
The Captain was very shrewd keeping her on the case, because Helena _is_ at present playing ball.  
"Ok, lets just go back to Thursday morning. Your regular breakfast haunt, where is that?"  
Helena very deliberately smiles, "Ah yes, the lovely Sarah. It's called The Roadside, very original, I believe you've already been there..."  
"You went Thursday morning? What time did you leave and can you recall your order?"  
She rolls her eyes, "I have a strong sense of deja vu right now, Detective. Perhaps you should just join me for breakfast, save me the trouble of repeating myself?"  
Myka smiles softly, "H.G., Helena, I don't think you realise how serious this is."  
"Oh, but I do, you see," she smiles now, nervously, and concedes, "I...I don't always react well to pressure." She draws a breath, "I had my usual, tea (awful), bagel, fruit juice and a sandwich."  
"Thank you, and you left when?"  
"Around 9, again as usual. I haven't actually been back there since," she says, "I decided that your visit would have led to too many _other_ questions. You cramped my style, Detective. Ms McKinnon's brother will have to wait it seems."  
Myka continues, and Helena is genuinely puzzled by her next question, "Did you keep the receipt, when you paid?"  
"Did I....?" she frowns, "What an odd...well I don't know. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't, it depends..."  
"On...?"  
"On the weather...? I don't know, Detective.." she sighs, "Maybe if I have bills in the change, or if I'm at the table or the till...I couldn't tell you. Why is this important?"  
Myka decides to give a little, Helena has cooperated - whether through genuine willingness or simple willfulness - and she deserves something in return. Myka just hopes she isn't about to make a mistake.  
"Ok, Helena, it's important because there is evidence at the scene where Marcus Diamond has been discovered, evidence that implicates you." Myka says, "It's important because the time of death has been placed at some point between 9pm Thursday and 1am Friday morning."  
Helena's face betrays nothing, "I see," she says. "I have told you about Thursday, I can only tell you where I was, Steve will verify that. As for this receipt...I may have some, I'm not the tidiest person, so I may." She looks up, Myka nods to acknowledge her cooperation, and when Helena speaks next it feels to be directed at Myka alone.  
"Whatever this evidence is, I promise you, I did not kill Marcus Diamond - but you must know that he will have enemies beyond his victims...?" She appeals, but then when Myka says nothing, Helena's face crinkles in disbelief at her own words, "Believe me, in the past I've wished him dead...but when you told me the other day of his escape, I just wished him caught."  
Myka asks, because it's a valid question "And if he was released, through appeal or at the end of his term?"  
Helena scratches at the side of her head, in thought, "His appeal would have failed I'm certain of that. As for years from now, I had not let myself consider that far ahead. I've learnt that looking to the future is a futile exercise." She has veered between anger, affront and now melancholy, while Myka plays with the hem of her own shirt under the desk, her fingers itching to reach across the table, as Helena drops her gaze, and a hand reaches up to grasp at her chest.

There's a soft knock at the door, breaking their sudden silence. It's Pete, he doesn't hesitate, launches straight into it, Myka knows it's deliberate and is annoyed because she was getting somewhere. She's watching Helena, who is jarred by the sudden sound of his voice, "H.G. thanks for helping us out here, now as a further show of cooperation - we need to take a look around your apartment."  
Myka hasn't taken her eyes from Helena, who's now emotionless eyes meet hers before flicking up towards Pete stood behind her. Whatever Pete and the Captain hoped to achieve by his direct approach, it's failed. "Straight to the point Detective Lattimer," she drops her eyes back to Myka, "I think it's time for my lawyer, don't you..."


	7. Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia comes to town, and in the past, H.G. and Steve get closer to their man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had hoped to post sooner than usual, but at least it's on time in my own little schedule. Hope it doesn't feel too clunky at the start, need to push us on a little.

It has been two weeks since Marcus Diamond's body was found. Helena was released without charge, following the arrival and swift work of her charming, cocky young lawyer, Jack Secord. He had accompanied Helena, Pete and Liam to her apartment for a consented search that same day, while Myka went to the labs to speak with Abigail. In truth, she hadn't wished to be in Helena's apartment, to search her belongings, to watch as others entered her personal space. She knew Helena would resent it. The search revealed nothing aside from a few diner receipts stuffed into one of her jackets, and various notes about Marcus Diamond's old haunts and associates, in a folder stamped Nielsen's Bail Bonds. Anything they had was circumstantial, Secord had argued, and both St Clair and Kosan had agreed - for now. Two unaccounted time periods when Helena had been alone - in her hotel apartment or riding the streets of Denver to pass the time - plus a single slip of paper found at the lockup paled against the lack of DNA evidence, or indeed any witnesses. There were too many variables, too much doubt for any jury - the use of the horse tranquiliser, stolen at a time when Helena was checked in at an Arizona motel completing a successful bail retrieval; the motorcycle recovered at the lockup, it's serial numbers erased, but eventually traced to a Denver owner who had been on vacation and had since returned to report it stolen. As for the green van used three weeks ago, Myka and Pete had traced the source of the phone tip-off. He'd been a local drunk, an unfortunate homeless man who after some coaxing recalled being given a number of dollar bills and a paper bag with a bottle of whiskey by "a lovely young lady wearing shades." He could recall nothing of her appearance, her voice. Nothing reliable. There had been a lull in the investigation, the police department has been overrun with a spate of crimes; a number of road rage incidents make the news for their frequency, domestic robberies are on the rise as people carelessly leave their windows open or unlocked in the heat, and someone is preying on homeless in a series of night time assaults. 

The press have cooled their interest in the escaped prisoners somewhat - the death of a convicted child killer and a 'geek' on the run holding less interest a few weeks on.  
Helena Wella remained a suspect - she had a strong motive and there was evidence which could point to her involvement, just not enough. It's never far from Myka's thoughts despite their mounting caseload, she's conflicted despite her inherent belief that Helena is innocent, and the coincidences and unexplained threads of the case niggle at her mind. Myka has, in the past month been on countless runs to clear her head, but has also lost patience with Pete and others too many times to remember. She has not seen Helena since she left with her lawyer, offering Myka an even, emotionless glance before turning away so that her hair curtained over her face. Myka learned from Steve Jinks that Helena has returned to Las Vegas. He, Jack Secord, and Arthur Nielsen had with difficulty persuaded her it would be best if she kept a low profile. Then Steve had returned from Las Vegas with a new partner to work on Helena's behalf, looking into the thefts which had facilitated Diamond's murder and also using their experience to try and trace Todd Nolan who had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. Myka had again warned Steve not to get in the way of the police, and he'd chuckled, "But Detective, if it will help H.G., Claudia and I will use our own sources and methods, don't worry about us, we are adept at sticking within the law," he winked, and Myka had internally felt buoyed that someone else had belief in Helena, because it was a point on the right side of the scales.

The detectives were instructed to follow up leads pertaining to Wells, but to also dig deeper into Diamond's past. He may have been a convicted killer, and social commentary in the local news held little sympathy for him, but that this may have been a vigilante killing was also a political hot potato. Her father had said little on the case in the past few weeks after their previously strained conversation, but he had enquired about H.G.Wells, not by name, seemingly interested in the story rather than whether the evidence suggested guilt or not. As she'd been talking, Tracy had given her an odd look from across the room and Myka had changed the subject after that, conscious of her sister's curious gaze. Today, Myka and Pete were finally visiting Diamond's cell mate, Billy Wright had briefly been in hospital due to a burst appendix on the day Marcus Diamond was abducted. Wright was then a witness in a trial and only now were the state prosecutor and his lawyers happy for him to talk with the police about Diamond. The last time Myka set foot inside a Federal prison, she was with Sam, visiting a jewelry thief who was offering evidence of a wider network in exchange for leniency. Sam had been a little overprotective of her and it was the first time she'd truly realised that work and play didn't sit well. Their time together was too good to let that place doubts in her head, but she had pushed back at Sam - she was an excellent, strong, skillful detective in her own right and could look after herself. Pete is under no such misconceptions about Myka. He very quickly learned he had to earn her respect, because she had his from day one of their partnership when she chased, tackled and disarmed a suspect in an alleyway. Myka may run away from her own guilt and doubt, but she was not one to run away from danger. 

As they moved through the tedious but necessary security checks, Pete's stomach rumbled. "Hey, fancy waffles on the way back to base?" Myka said teasingly and he groaned, "Now that's just not playing fair!"  
"Well I told you we'd be hours, it's not my fault you skipped breakfast," she laughed with a wink.  
Pete grinned, "Well, it _was_ worth it...Kelly and I... _you know_..." he grinned even wider.  
"Yeah, ok, sorry I teased, now shush" Myka said, secretly happy for Pete. He was a shameless flirt, but Abigail had set him up a few weeks ago with her friend Kelly, an EMT. She seemingly responded to Pete's goofy side, and while sometimes it helped Myka relax in between the serious police work she could only take so much. 

Before interviewing the prisoner, they visit the administration offices to retrieve a bag with the possessions Marcus Diamond arrived from court with following his sentencing. His civilian clothes, an expensive watch, gold neck chain and a small silver key are the only items in the brown paper bag. Examining them one by one, Myka peers at the key which has a rough edge on one side, "We'll get Liam to take a look at this...it's as if it's been filed to erase marks of some kind..."

Pete grunts in acknowledgement, but holds up the watch,  
"There's some fancy writing on the back...'Fidelitas usque ad Finem'" 

Myka scrunches her nose as dredges the depths of her Latin knowledge, "I think, and don't quote me, but I think it's 'Loyalty until death' or, 'the end'" She takes the watch from Pete, "It's rather nice, especially if it was a gift."

Pete nods "The type of thing Sykes might gift a loyal employee, do you think?" 

Myka grins at him, "Yeah...I could see him using Latin, I think he fancies himself as above the average criminal..."

Billy had a serious demeanour, but a pallid complexion following his operation. When they sat opposite him, he nervously coughed then asked, "Is this about Diamond? We all saw on the news..."

"We have some questions about Marcus Diamond, yes" Myka says, "You shared a cell with him for 9 months, correct?"

He nods, but it's clear he's unhappy about their visit, "I dunno know what you think I know, cos I don't know nothin'" he twitches, his knee vibrating from the movement of his foot tapping. 

Pete leans forward, "Hey pal, we just want to chat, was _he_ a chatty type?"

He scoffs, "This ain't happening without a little incentive...I've been stuck in hospital, stuck with a new, psycho, cell mate..."

Pete says "I don't care..." but stops, looks at Myka with a slight smile, "I don't care about hospital - that would have been luxurious compared to here, but...but..."

Myka nods at the man across the table, with her best encouraging smile. "We were talking to the guards, seems there will be some moves shortly, to the east wing..." 

His eyes narrow, and his voice betrays his interest "East wing?"

"Yeah" says Pete, going along with his partner, "I heard they got an X-Box over there" he says enthusiastically.

"So...incentive..." Myka prompts and Billy shifts in his seat, weighing up his response. 

He coughs, it’s a sickly sound but a slow smile spreads, “I’m easy to please” he says, “...get me that transfer and I’ll tell you about a conversation me an’ Marcus had a month ago.”

“Deal” says Myka, secure in the knowledge that this prisoner’s name is already pencilled in for the move, and clearly she is convincing because he pushes a shaky hand out, so she forces herself to briefly clasp it in her own, “Deal.” 

“It’s not much,” Billy starts, “But he was the quiet type, unless somethin’ needed doing or he wanted it. Then. He came back one day, smug as hell - got his appeal date, and I was in a crap mood..' Wright leans forward, takes a sip of water from the glass between them, "I didn’t think...and told him there’s no way he’s gettin’ off from killing a kid, and I laughed.” 

His face turns dark and Myka leans forward, “Go on” she says softly. 

“He grabbed me by the throat, but he was laughing. He whispered in my ear, that ‘they’ didn’t know yet, but he’d been sittin’ on an insurance policy and he was gonna cash in…no one was gonnaa to get away with betraying him.” 

Billy looks up at them now, “He knew he’d said too much - he warned me not a word or he’d see to it I left that place in a box.” Billy leers, “Look who’s in the box now.”

\---

When they arrive back from the prison, Myka is unnerved to see Steve's motorcycle parked up out front, two helmets hanging secured to the handlebars. Myka feels a tug in her gut even though she knows Helena can't be there. When they walk into the station, Steve is talking to Sergeant Channing at the desk, but he swings around when the veteran officer catches Myka's eye and says something to him. Steve is with his new partner, a young female who eyes Myka with suspicion and something bordering on disdain. Her hair is bobbed, a vivid red with the odd green streak running through. 

“Detectives Bering, Lattimer” Steve jerks his head to the side, “Meet Claudia, she’s just rolled into town, unfortunately her hunk ‘o junk car has died on her…so she’s hitching a lift with me today.” He laughs as Claudia playfully punches his arm. 

“Where’s H.G. when I need her, eh?” she says, “Oh yeah, stuck with Artie, ‘cos she’s been persecuted over here in the good ‘ole Centennial State.” 

She looks pointedly at Myka, who doesn’t know how to feel about this new face from Helena’s life. This person who is clearly very protective of her, and isn't afraid to speak her mind.

“Claudia,” Steve says with exasperated affection, before telling Myka and Pete, “We have something...nothing concrete yet...but..." he lowers his voice, steps away from the reception desk, "...we don't want to share it here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pete says, and Myka can almost see his hackles raising. 

"It means we don't trust that the walls don't have ears," Claudia says lowly, gritting her teeth.

"Then why come here," Pete says, "If you don't trust us."

Steve sighs, "To be honest, I figured you'd both appreciate not being ambushed in the street for once. Can we just...step outside?"

"Yeah, there's an ice cream truck out front," Claudia relaxes a little, even smiles, and Myka smiles in return. 

"Not for me, but Detective Lattimer here can appreciate a fine flavoured ice-cream..." she nudges Pete, hoping her own willingness to see what they have to say puts him at ease. They step out into the sun, and cross the road to the truck.

Myka observes the dynamic between Claudia and Steve, they look nothing alike but behave like brother and sister. There's a little bickering but Steve's guiding influence clearly has an impact on Claudia's more brash nature, a little similar to his relationship with Helena.

"So," she says, as they walk into the small park opposite the station, "what's with all the secrecy?"

"Claud.." Steve says and gives her an encouraging nod.

"Ok, here's the thing" Claudia drawls, "I'm a genius with computers..." 

Pete barks out a laugh, "Blow your own trumpet why don't you!" but drops silent, shaking his head when she glares at him.

"Like I was saying..." she licks at her cone, squinting into the sun, "Computers. And a certain someone you lot are looking for, who is still alive I might add, is also pretty hot with them..."

"Are you saying you are a hacker like Todd Nolan...?" Pete smirks when Claudia gets a little flustered and she growls at him.

"I am a bounty hunter who uses her knowledge and skills to _legally_ trace people" she huffs.

Myka raises a skeptical eyebrow, "You've got that sentence perfected to a tee," she says, but here's humour in her voice. Ignoring Pete's surprised expression, Myka presses on, "Look, for now, we are willing to overlook your methods, so, I repeat...why the secrecy?"

"Ok, I put out some feelers on certain online forums, used by people of a certain profession, shall we say..."

"Don't you think our cybercrime people have done the same?" Myka says instantly, and Claudia laughs  
.  
"Maybe, but not all places are known to you guys," she says, "Where would the fun be in that?" 

"Ok, fine" Myka sighs, "Go on"

"Well, I've been chatting to a new user, screen name 'Houdini'" 

Myka feels a surge of interest, "Original" she mutters, "You think it's Nolan?"

Steve speaks, "Yeah, hiding in plain sight..." 

"And why don't you want to share this with everyone" Pete jerks his head across the road to the precinct. 

"Because, genius, for one - Steve here is making me share this with you and I don't want too many people in the know," she glares at Steve who softly says, while glancing at Myka, to Pete, and back to Myka, "You know what H.G. said, and I agree with her."

Claudia grimaces, "Yeah yeah...anyway. Secondly, this user has been expressing certain opinions, it's almost as if he's working out who to trust on there. And he certainly doesn't trust the police."

"No surprise there," Myka says sarcastically, "He's is on the run, after all."

Claudia impatiently shakes her head, "It's not just that, he's suggesting there are police on the take, he's suggesting that he's trying to identify some trustworthy cops because he has important information."

"We think he wants to hand himself in but is scared to," Steve summarises. 

"This could be anyone, a kid messing about in their bedroom" Pete says.

"No, I've been private messaging 'Houdini'," Claudia smiles, "Todd Nolan _is_ a genius, this is no imposter."

"Has he told you who he is?" Myka draws Claudia's attention to her, wants to see her response.

Claudia is fierce in her conviction, "No. But we've discussed certain...techniques...his work has various signatures, you see. It's him." 

Narrowing her eyes, Myka has a suspicion, "How long have you had this contact?" 

Claudia hesitates, "Umm, well.."

"She started looking for him pretty much straight away, at H.G.'s request" Steve said, "We thought that maybe he would know something - having been on the van with Diamond. He's a witness - either he would know something about Diamond escaping....or as is now the case, he might be able to clear H.G.'s name."

"Now that lowlife is dead," Claudia said with a grim set to her mouth, "We are hoping Todd gets a bit jittery and more inclined to hand himself over...."

Pete's indignant voice chimes in, "Well he won't if he thinks there are corrupt cops about - which I take offence at by the way."

"No, that's where you two come in..." Steve smiles conspiratorially, "...we want to start to draw him out, but we need to give him some solid, trustworthy detectives as bait. You know H.G., you know St. Clair, and H.G. trusts her to do the right thing if there are any difficulties." 

For the first time in weeks, Myka feels a little more optimistic, it goes against the grain to work with bounty hunters, but in this case she trusts them despite the paranoia about the police. Their own people hadn't got very far in tracing Todd Nolan, and though it may turn out to be a dead end, this was worth a shot. She pulls Pete away to confer, and although he is more wary of keeping this quiet, he agrees to see where it goes. "We should tell the Captain though," he says, "and Rebecca St Clair."

"I'm not saying I don't trust her, but I'd rather not tell the Captain," Myka says, "I'm not sure she will appreciate it being 'off the books' so to speak."

Pete pulls his lips tight across his teeth, "Perhaps if it comes from the ADA though..."

Myka grins at him, "Yeah, that could work."

They head back to where Claudia and Steve are stood, giving them their terms which they agree are fair. Myka gives Steve her mobile number, before inclining her head to him as Pete starting pointing at the cartoon characters Claudia has sewn into her leather jacket, "The Jetsons!" she hears him whistle as she and Steve step aside.

Myka takes in a breath, "I wanted to ask you about what happened four years ago," she says, "There's something I'm looking into and...well, Helena isn't here to ask, so I'm asking you." 

Steve crinkles his brow but nods in acquiescence, so Myka explains about Helena's mention of the package she thought Diamond had retrieved from the bank robbery. 

"She has mentioned that to me too, recently" Steve says, "I think at the time, even though we were looking for him, she understandably was so fixated on Christina that it was lost in the noise." 

Myka understands this well enough, her own memories of Sam were initially a tableau of images: his smile as he left her apartment, his phone on her bedroom table, her own face in the rearview mirror of her car, his determined gait as he strode across the road to his fate, his lifeless face. The details had filtered in later, in her dreams, conversations, colours, sounds, sights. Her training and her memory had failed her in the trauma of the day, and then the compulsion to blame herself and then run from that life had dominated.

"It was never mentioned in the police reports, and no one reported any missing items..." Myka says carefully, "Did the name McPherson ever come up during your hunt for Diamond?" 

She watches Steve closely, and despite his clear ability to present a poker face, he twitched under the intensity of her gaze. Closing his eyes, opening them, he says, "It did, actually, only briefly but as it turned out, a phone tip was what broke the case for us." 

"Okay" Myka says slowly, knowing what she now knows of McPherson, "I sense there's more to it Steve." 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, "That's something for H.G. to tell you about, not me." 

"He was found dead only a few days before you apprehended Diamond," Myka presses.

"Yeah," Steve sighs, "McPherson was wanted for arson, among other things, but we were concentrating on our friend Marcus." 

"Hmmm" Myka is unconvinced, "You know this might be relevant...McPherson had a safe deposit box at the bank." 

Steve's face shows surprise, then confusion, "You think something of his was stolen?"

"It's a possibility wouldn't you say?" Myka states, "As a criminal, if something of his was taken, he may be less inclined to report the fact."

A thoughtful nod from Steve gives her encouragement, "I'll mention this to H.G." he says, and smiles cautiously, "Thanks, Detective Bering, I do appreciate your help. H.G. won't always show it, the world's against her you see, but I know she is grateful too."

Myka can't help but ask after her, "I bet she's crawling the walls back there?" 

"Artie is keeping her busy and out of mischief," Steve says, and stands because Claudia has called him. "I'll be in touch shortly" he says and rejoins Claudia. 

Pete stands next to Myka, "Anything interesting?" 

"They did know of McPherson, but he was a bit cagey about it," Myka relays, "...Steve was definitely surprised about his connection to the bank."

"Ok, so we are in a better place than we were at the start of the day, it seems Mr. Diamond did have something up his sleeve..." Pete says, then suddenly his face lights up, "..speaking of sleeves, that Claudia is a cartoon aficionado, her jacket is a masterpiece!" he beams. 

Myka laughs, "Glad you've made friends with the snarky one, Pete." 

"Hey, I'm used to snarky.." he winks,

"Hey yourself!" Myka protests, though she accepts she isn't the most amiable partner at times. 

"She's a good 'un," Pete says now, "She loves Steve like a brother, and boy does she idolise H.G." he squints at her, "What can I say?!...I'm good at getting the personal stuff outta people." 

"You can turn on the charm, I'll give you that, Lattimer." 

Myka is unsurprised at Claudia's seeming loyalty and like of Helena. Despite her tragic past, Helena was intelligent, charismatic, warm and humourous when she wanted to be, and Myka could well imagine an intelligent young woman like Claudia appreciating and learning from her.  
Myka just hoped that the past wasn't about to catch up with Helena, and she had a feeling that what Steve wouldn't tell her would reflect poorly on Helena herself. 

  


_**June 2010** _

At 2am, a few days after the encounter with McPherson's driver, Helena parks up the second hand Toyota she’s been driving for the past few months, contemplating the grinding gears and frayed seats. It’s been a temporary solution that has stretched longer than she ever anticipated, and she thinks that maybe she needs to bring some permanence to the situation. There’s only so long she can keep that engine in working order, and she wonders whether the feeling of unconstrained motion she feels whenever riding with Steve is a sign that she should invest in lessons and a bike of her own. Steve has hinted at it a few times, but that would feel like a statement of intent to remain. At this point she doesn’t know if he desires to stick around, or even if _she_ will be wanted after Marcus Diamond is found. 

When she slides the key into the lock of her apartment door and pushes, her eyes drop down to a folded, lined piece of paper, slipped under and resting on the mat behind. She swiftly picks it up, hands trembling, but is disappointed to read only 'expect a call at Nielsen's today'. She voices her frustration with a grumble, but also steps back outside to see if there is anyone loitering. She is unhappy someone has been to her apartment, but is not surprised, it's an unsubtle message from Sykes. She locks up, then pushes the note through the paper shredder she keeps under the makeshift desk in her living space. Heading into the bathroom she turns the shower on and strips off, stepping straight under the cool water to wash the day's grime from her skin. She's on edge, knowing that the past six months since Christina was taken from her are reaching a tipping point. She doesn't feel like she will ever get past the anger, no matter what happens from here on in, she can't forgive a lot of people, least of all herself. Without Steve, Claudia and Arthur she doubts she would be capable of putting on the front that she does. She has traded one name for another, having given up McPherson's whereabouts, she will soon have the location of her daughter's killer. What she does with that information, she won't know until she has it in her hands. She has played out scenarios in her head, and it scares her that so few of them see Marcus Diamond in the custody of the police department. The shower spray masks the silent tears falling down her face, trailing along her jaw before tickling down her neck. She shivers suddenly, realising she has stopped all movement and is just stood, the hairs on her arms prickle and she chokes back a sob, turning suddenly to switch off the shower and grab her robe. Laying on the bed, Helena tries to imagine a time beyond this limbo she is in, but she can't. At least, she can't imagine anything but her own penance, her own misery and certainly not a time when her heart is not breaking for Christina. 

Hours later she wakes to sun streaming across her body, still wrapped in the robe, her arms and legs splayed from active dreams. She freshens up and dresses as she sips at a mug of tea, then she heads out to the office where she knows Arthur will have been for an hour or more already. 

"H.G.," he greets quietly when she arrives, and drops a pile of papers on her still temporary desk 

"I need an extra pair of eyes today, I hope that doesn't interfere with anything you and Steve had planned?" His tone is challenging, and she knows he disapproves of the time Steve has been spending on her case, but they have brought in some income from other bonds so he has let it slide so far. But, he does like to assert his authority every so often, and Helena is grateful that today is one of those days, because it means she doesn't need to make an excuse to remain in the office. 

When the call comes, however, she is not there. Despite her forced playful protests, she had been the one to head out and collect lunch for them all, and on her return she spied Steve through the window, about to pick up a phone. She burst through the door and stopped still, Steve was already writing on a notepad and ripping the sheet off when he looked up and saw her wide eyed and slightly frantic expression. 

He grabbed his jacket and firearm, not looking at Helena, "Claud, I'm heading out. Got a tip." 

"Anything juicy, Jinksy?" Claudia enquired, absentmindedly glued to her computer screen. 

"I don't know yet," he said, ignoring her use of the nickname Helena had accidentally on purpose let slip a few weeks ago, and he moved to brush past Helena but she grabbed his arm. 

"Steve," she said, forcefully enough that Claudia looked up, sensing trouble. 

He just shook his head imperceptibly, disappointment in his eyes, and said, "Come on then."

When they were outside on the sidewalk by his motorcycle, he said, "Why would we get a tip for Marcus Diamond's whereabouts, followed by a 'thank H.G. for us' at the end?" 

She falters under the weight of his stare. "Don't lie to me Helena" he grits out, "although now I  
think it's too late for that."

Her eyes dart to the paper in his hand and he shakes his head, "Oh, no. If you are coming with me. The truth, now?"

Though she feels justified in the trade she has made, she knows it is a shameful one, and Steve has become important to her, they all have. For them to think less of her, this is a consequence she must bear. "McPherson," she says, "McPherson's whereabouts in return for the man who murdered my daughter."

"Oh, H.G. what have you done?" he sighs, "Do you think Sykes is going to invite him round for tea and cakes?"

Dropping her head, she says, "He just needs to talk to him, something about supplies, he just needs..."

"It's never, 'just a talk' with these people," Steve mounts his bike, and passes a spare helmet to her. "Come on, if this is a pact with the devil, we need to at least cash it in."

 

It's first light the next morning when they pull up outside the Westwood address in Denver, having pulled an all nighter with a few stops on the way, each catching forty winks in an amenable diner on the way. It's a single storey suburban household, not in great condition, and the shades are drawn, but then it is almost 6am. 

"What now?" Helena says, barely able to control the tension in her voice. 

"Of course, we need to verify he is there, first," Steve says, "You know, this may be another wild goose chase."

"No, it won't be," she says, remembering the strange encounter with Walter Sykes. 

Steve pulls away and they park up alongside a bench outside a convenience store two blocks away. When they are sat, each chewing on a granola bar, Steve clears his throat, "You need to stay out of sight," he says. "Diamond will know you."

Helena bridles, but she knows he is right, but, "You can't go in alone, Steve" she argues, but he's adamant she is only there as a last resort.

"I should have left you back at base," he sighs.

They agree that she will listen in on a radio wire. It's one of the little gadgets Claudia introduced when she started - for safety and evidential back up.

At 8am, Steve is stood, package in hand, wearing a grey box jacket, a popular delivery service logo on the front pocket. They'd surmised there was someone occupying when a back light, presumably in a bathroom, flicked on for thirty seconds then off again. Helena is with the bike, twenty metres up the road, crouched down as if checking the tyres, listening intently as the door opens and a harsh, unwelcoming female voice greets Steve. 

"Yeah?" 

"Package, Ma'am" Steve says, and Helena hears him unclip a pen from his pocket.

"We ain't expecting one" she says with a slight southern drawl, and that is mistake one, admittance of another person's presence.

"Sorry, Ma'am. It's this address....for..." Steve pretends to examine the label, "Eddie Pren...."

Then mistake number two - another voice interrupts, yelling from the rear of the property, "Get rid of them and come back to bed!" 

It takes all of Helena's self control not to run. To run away from that voice or to run towards it. She grips the soft leather of the motorcycle seat, then forces herself to sit, and wait - and she isn't sure how long it's been because, already, Steve is walking back; having delivered the package to the neighbour instead, the ruse of the wrongly addressed label seemingly accepted.  
He is whispering urgently, knowing she can hear him through the wire, "H.G.....H.G....are you there, are you ok?" But it's not until he is stood in front of her that she hears him, and he repeats his earlier lament, "I shouldn't have brought you here."

They wait, and Helena appreciates why Steve meditates, because it's mind numbing, frustrating and unhealthy, the waiting. They've done it before, but not for this long and not with a personal stake in the outcome. It's not until 10pm that night that the door opens and the woman leaves. She is blonde, dressed in jeans and a blazer, and having thought she may be a call girl, they aren't so sure now. But what matters is that by midnight, Steve is approaching the property covertly, Helena again waits elsewhere, and in the dead of night her breathing thunders in her ears, but then Steve's voice whispers into her ear.

"He's asleep in front of the TV, I'm going in. Sit tight H.G."

Her breathing, the thud of her heartbeat, the rustling in her ear as Steve moves along the edge of the house, prises open a window enters the house. These are the things Helena focusses on, rather than what she will do or say when she comes face to face with Marcus Diamond. 

But then something happens, because suddenly Steve grunts, and there is a cry of pain and the sounds of a struggle grow louder, more desperate in her ear and she is running, running, running towards it. She doesn't think when she sees the side window propped open, she is in and moving onwards to the reality awaiting her. She pulls the earpiece out and grabs a lamp from the table she passes, because the can of Mace tucked inside her leather jacket probably doesn't cut it. At first she doesn't see them, the room is in darkness but for the flickering of the TV, then there's a noise from one corner where an empty bookshelf thuds against the wall. Panic rising in her throat, Helena navigates the room and sees a large figure straddling Steve, hands are clamped around his neck and Steve is clawing upwards and trying to kick out. But Marcus Diamond is strong and Steve is flailing. Helena freezes, for seconds, she freezes, then Diamond makes a noise, it's a grunt of satisfaction. 

It triggers her into action and she brings the base of the lamp up then down, half across his neck and shoulders. Not where she had intended. He barely moves, but the surprise frees his hands from Steve's neck, and Steve is able to at least gain purchase and deliver a blow to the centre of Diamond's chest so that he falls back in anger. He twists his neck up and around, his oh so familiar wild gaze fixes on Helena and this time there is no hesitation, for the lamp is already drawn back and she smacks it sideways across his temple. It's cartoon like, his expression, coupled with the spin as his body turns and flops back and off to the side of Steve. Diamond is out cold, Steve is grasping his own neck pulling in gulps of air and Helena's fingers open in relief so that the lamp drops to the floor. But then she steps forward, sinks to her knees and starts to pound at Marcus Diamond's chest and head. Flat palmed blows, fists, nails. All bear down on an unconscious figure, her fury unleashed, tears breaking free and blurring her vision of the man beneath her. All she can see is Christina - laughing then not, smiling then not, crying then not. If she had a gun she would use it, and later she will realise that Arthur's insistence that she didn't obtain a licence was due to foresight of just such a scenario, rather than the temporary nature of her position with his service. So she doesn't have a gun and, gradually, her awareness of the world around her returns. Because her arms are trapped at her sides, she is held tightly from behind, her chest is heaving and in her ear Steve is whispering, 

"It's over, it's over, stop H.G. stop...." 

But her anger has not quite abated, and she struggles in his grip - who is he to judge her decisions, how can he possibly understand if she wants to mete out her own justice?

"I understand" he says, as if reading her mind, "My sister was taken from me. Accidentally shot in a drive by, it was her 21st birthday. I was 17." 

And at his words the fight leaves her, humbled by his calmness, his caring and his hold, "How do you think _I_ got into this fool's game, H.G.?" he says, and pulls her up and away from the prone body of Marcus Diamond.

Later, when Steve returns from handing a conscious, restrained Diamond over to the police, so that Helena is spared that interrogation, he drops down with a sigh onto his bed in their shared room. She has been laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling since returning hours earlier. She runs her fingers over her bruised and split hands, wincing at the pain, remembering the feel of _his_ bones under her knuckles. She has been asking herself the same question over and over in her head, _What now?_. Even Diamond's death would have left her here, in a world without her daughter, without love. Steve turns onto his side to watch her. 

"H.G." Steve's voice drifts across and she turns her head to face him. 

He says, "Thank you..." 

Her confusion must be palpable so he expands, kind eyes boring into her, "...for saving my life." 

She breaks, and he crosses the gap to pull her into a hug, so that she holds on, arms looped up and grasping at his shoulders, until she is exhausted by her tears, and sleeps. Later, she wakes to find Steve has covered her with a blanket, but he is dozing next to her still, in reach.

"Did you forgive them?" She whispers, not expecting a response, "...the person who killed your sister?"

He stirs, "No" he sighs, "Artie helped me bring him to justice. He's rotting in one of the most notorious prisons in the country, he won't be having a good time of it."

"I would have killed him, right then, if you hadn't..." she says.

"But you didn't, and believe me, you will feel better for that in the long run," he reaches to take hold of her hand, "It would have felt as if you'd betrayed Christina's memory, H.G., and you need to hold on to the best of your memories."

When Steve wakes late morning the following day, Helena is sat at the desk in their room, she is showered and dressed and she is scrutinising a screen on her laptop. Groggily, Steve tumbles off the bed and takes the few steps to stand behind her. 

"I rather like the look of this..." Helena says, and leans to the side so he can see the gleaming motorcycle on screen, "Would you help me pass the required tests and so on?" 

Steve chuckles, "Of course I will" and pauses, "I take it you are going to stick around?"

Helena isn't totally sure of that, so she says, "For a while, at least...".

\---


	8. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A theft brings H.G. back into town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting earlier than usual, moving us along a bit and oh look...there is an ending in sight!

Three days after Claudia and Steve visited the station, Myka and Pete are working through paperwork at their desks, it’s a weekly ritual. Pete brings a sweet and savoury pastry selection, Myka brings the best coffee ever from the cafe a block up. Machine coffee just won’t cut it when she has to cajole Pete into doing his share, when there is too much for her to do alone. 

“It’s getting better,” Pete says, lifting and squinting at a form, then thrusting it at Myka.

She doesn’t have to ask, as she peers through her glasses at the inky scrawl on the paper.  
“Hmmm, if you say so,” she says, “Does that say ‘punched’ or ‘pinched’, because I’m not sure pinching is classed as assault…” 

“It should be,” he scowls, reaches over as if to pinch her but she dodges his fingers, “If that’s all you can see, then it is getting better!” 

“I’ll give you that, reward yourself with that pecan maple twist,” she points at the box between them, but he’s already took said pastry out and it's halfway to his mouth so she just shakes her head with a smile. 

“You seem a little more upbeat lately,” he cautiously mumbled between bites.

“You say that like I’ve been moping around, Pete,”

“Well…” 

She sighs, “Ok, yes this case has just been…” 

He doesn’t have to ask which case, “Awkward…?” he ventures.

“Yeah, that’s a good word for it,” she pokes at the contents of the box, not really hungry anymore but looking for comfort. “It’s thrown me off-kilter. I mean, I’ve not been back that long and we get this, quite public case, and people…” she glances around the station floor, “will be thinking, ‘look at her, takes a break, she can’t handle it, comes back and is - was - involved with a prime suspect - what kind of officer is she?’’’

“I’m sorry,” he says, “for making you think about it again. But screw what anyone thinks, though for the record, there’s only us and the captain know about your...liaison” he smirks but it’s not lascivious, he means it to be reassuring.

She smiles ruefully, “And not forgetting ADA St Clair. But it’s ok...I just want it over with, and it’s been frustrating - too many loose threads and you know how I hate cases like that.”

Pete nods, “Despite what they do, I like Steve and Claudia…” he says out of the blue, if reluctantly. 

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’m feeling more positive. We’ve exhausted all avenues when it comes to Diamond, and Nolan is clearly very disciplined at not contacting family or friends, so if Claudia is as good as she seems to think….” 

“I still think we should have our tech people in on that..” Pete grumbles.

“It’ll just alienate her, and Nolan if he's got a bee in his bonnet about dodgy cops,” Myka shakes her head, “I know….I know I’ve been a bit less concerned about following the rules Pete, but since I met you you’ve said I need to follow my gut more. This is me following my gut…”

He frowns, “Is that all you’re following?” 

She doesn’t answer that, but grabs a savoury, takes a large bite and gestures at his paperwork before taking a pen back to her own. A few hours later they are just about done, when Myka’s mobile rings, “Steve” she mouths at Pete, and swipes the call open. 

Steve sounds a little breathless and agitated when he speaks, "Detective Bering?!"

"It's me," Myka says, gesturing to Pete as she stands and heads into one of the empty interview rooms. Pete follows with a questioning gaze.

"I'm at the hospital, it's Claudia..." He says, "She's been attacked...I think she disturbed someone in her motel room." 

Myka's eyes widen, "Is she ok?" 

"She's unconscious," he says with a catch in his voice, "...but the thing is, Detective, her laptop's gone."

"Ok Steve, sit tight. She'll be good - I get the impression she's a tough cookie," Myka reassures him, "I'm going to find out the details from the responding officer...there was one, yes?"

"Yeah, yeah, the motel manager called the police and EMT"

"Right, we'll catch up. Let me know as soon as Claudia's condition changes...?"

"I will, thanks," he says, and hangs up.

Myka fills Pete in, and they intercept the officers who visited the scene when they arrive back at the station mid shift. It's two beat cops, Officers Martinez and Parker, a fresh faced fierce young woman and her more experienced, bearded partner who exudes a calm air of patience. They remind Myka a little of Claudia and Steve, and what they have to say rings alarm bells with Pete and Myka. 

"Something's a bit off, if it was a random theft, why pick that room, upstairs, so restricted routes of escape?" Myka says

"The perp may have targeted her room if they saw she had a nice bit of kit. Steve Jinks said they ate almost daily in the cafe alongside the motel," Martinez says, "Honestly, for an experienced thief, motels like that are great source of opportunity, wherever the room is."

"There's no CCTV, apparently it's been down for weeks, low on the list of priorities," Parker clucks disapprovingly, "But this is the only theft reported in over a year, and no other rooms were targeted."

"So, could be random, could be deliberate...." Pete says, "My gut says it's just a bit too much of of a coincidence?" He looks as Myka who nods, but they don't elaborate for the officers. 

"Is there something we should know?" Parker asks with a frown.

"Just something we are working, we know the victim," Myka dismisses his concern, "it's probably nothing." 

"We are going to the hospital shortly, check on the vic's condition, will you be coming?" Martinez knowingly inclines her head as she adjusts her belt. 

Myka narrows her eyes, but let's out a small chuckle, "Yeah, we'll head over with you," and relents, "Look, if it's something we can involve you in, we will, ok." 

The two officers shrug, used to the vagaries of working with the detective division, they'll get asked if they are needed to do any leg work or back up, that's how it goes. By late afternoon when they are walking the corridor to the room Claudia is laid up in, the temperature is so close that Myka wishes she could step under a cold shower for a few hours. Her white shirt clings to her back and she feels sluggish and out of sorts. Steve is just closing the door to the room when they arrive.

"She's awake, I was just about to call," he waves the mobile in his left hand. "Docs say she needs to stay in under observation for 48 hours. You can take a statement, no longer than 15 minutes though." 

His face is stern and protective, and so Myka and Pete let Martinez and Parker get their statement, in the knowledge that they can talk with Steve and probably Claudia again later. He takes the officers in to see her and when he emerges, ushers Myka and Pete along the corridor to a seating area.

"She didn't see who it was, just got back in her room, and was hit over the head. Five stitches," he says quietly. "She takes that laptop everywhere, like everywhere, but she'd just nipped out to a vending machine in the reception building." 

"So the thief was waiting, that's for sure, pretty ballsy," Pete grimaces, "she ok?"

Steve smiles, "She's pissed. So yeah she's ok."

Myka's mind is racing ahead, the laptop. "If this was deliberate, then someone knows about..."

"Contact with Todd Nolan?" Steve surmises, "That's what we were wondering. Claudia is confident her security is good enough, I hope she's right. Of course, it might just be bad timing..."

"Well, there's only us that knew," Pete surmises, and a little sarcastically, "that was the point of sneaking out of the station, right?"

Steve glances at Pete then, gripes back "Yeah well we did get out of there eventually..." 

Myka is about to step into their mini spat, when Steve seemingly makes a decision, before addressing Myka, "You should know, H.G. is on her way back. She's bringing Claudia's cloned machine with her."

Myka hopes she doesn't show her _eagerness, concern, irritation, anticipation_ at the thought of seeing Helena again, but she appreciates the heads up from Steve. "Is that wise?" she says. 

Steve laughs ruefully, "Wise or not, she's coming, and she's probably more pissed than Claudia and me."

\---

Helena Wells, Myka found out the next day, was _mightily_ pissed. When Myka goes to the the hospital after her shift, it's already dark outside, and truth be told she's gone partly to speak with Claudia, and partly in the hope she can talk to Helena also. When she's shown into the room by a nurse, Helena is there, wearing grey jeans and a red plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. In the split second before she looks up to see Myka, she looks relaxed, she's laughing lightly at something Claudia has said. She looks beautiful. Then her eyes lift to see Myka, who is dishevelled, tired and uncomfortable in the clothes she's worn on another hot day, they harden, and when the nurse leaves, she stands up, an accusing finger pointing in Myka's direction.

"Why isn't there a police officer outside that door?" She says forcefully, and Claudia grabs at her wrist.

"H.G. I've got you and Steve here 24/7 we don't need them," she laughs, "...don't beat up on Detective Hot Stuff here, she's a good guy."

Myka's a little taken aback both by Helena's ire and Claudia's defence of her, "Should I just step out and come back in?" She says, louder than intended.

"Maybe just the first part..." Helena mutters darkly and that just gets under Myka's skin.

"Hey," she says, stepping forward, "I've had a long day, I just wanna go home, shower and open a bottle of wine. But I'm here, to check on _your_ friend and to see if she has remembered anything useful so I can find the person who did this. And maybe, just maybe, we can get closer to the rest of it..." Myka drops the hand that has been tugging at her tied up hair, and glares at Helena who is stood still looking at but through Myka, while Claudia darts her eyes between the two of them. Claudia taps a few keys on her replacement laptop before clearing her throat and addressing Myka.

"Errr, sorry Detective, it's still a blur," she says cautiously, but then grins, "But the good news is that my security hasn't been breached, whoever has my other laptop, they won't have anything from it except my 'you shall not pass' screensaver." 

Myka, still staring at Helena, says distractedly, "Gandalf?"

"Yeah..." and Myka can hear the surprise in Claudia's voice. 

"That's good," Myka looks at Claudia now, breaking eye contact with Helena, "Get Steve to call me if you get a ping from Mr Nolan, yeah?" 

"Why?" It's Helena, simmering still, "Why should we call you, when obviously someone found out about Claudia's efforts, and either went after her themselves or got someone else to." 

Myka goes to the door, opens it and turns back, "Because whatever your opinion, Helena, Pete and I can be trusted, and you need us for Nolan to come in." She drops her head, says to Claudia, "Take care, and call us." 

She closes the door behind her, taking a deep breath, her own irritation giving way to hurt, because she can't seem to get anything right - find people, stop people getting hurt, or take the right course of action to please everyone. It may not be her responsibility to do that, but she She forces herself to push away, and nearly walks straight into Steve who almost spills the hot drink he carries. 

"Hey, Detective, everything ok?" he says with concern.

"Ask your partner," she gestures back to the room, before striding out along the deserted, dimly lit corridor back towards the nursing station at the far end.

It's less than ten seconds before she hears a noise behind, before her sleeve is tugged and momentum allows her to be pulled to the side. The slight aroma of motor oil mixed with a fruity shampoo scent gives the game away. Helena has hauled her alongside a tall trolley full of bedding, hidden from the staff up ahead, but says nothing. Myka is slightly stunned, can sense the body now close to hers is tense with worry, nervous energy, and something else she couldn't put a name to. They stand in each other's space, not quite looking at each other, both regaining their composure, slightly breathless. Myka shifts nervously, about to question, but Helena clearly decides to take Myka's lack of protest as a sign. She runs her hands swiftly up Myka's arms, and onward to the back of her neck, which she applies a gentle pressure to. Myka, despite her general exasperation with Helena, found she had no will to resist at that moment. Her tiredness, the heat, her acknowledgement of her own want tempered by the situation they were in, meant that when Helena pushed up and forward, Myka's lips parted in something like relief. It was an intense meeting of two willing mouths, an indulgence in the stillness and shadows of the corridor, the bleep of machines faintly heard. Myka wasn't aware of anything but the kiss and Helena's fingertips resting against her skin, until both were suddenly gone - and she dazedly opened her eyes at the sound of her own voice and the feel of her own fingers pushing at Helena's shoulders. 

"Stop...stop" Myka breathlessly said to herself as much as Helena, whose face betrayed the knowledge that she'd stepped across a line, but didn't regret it, though an apology poured forth.

"I'm sorry...for back there...but I'm not sorry, for this," she whispered, not moving to step back further as she gestured between them.

Myka did remove her hands from Helena to take a single step back, putting distance between them and cocked her head to the side in question, "What are you doing?"

"Taking a moment alone with you, I don't seem to be able to stop thinking about you," Helena says quietly, dropping her eyes to the floor briefly, more contrite and unsure in the face of Myka's sudden resistance.

Myka's eyes dart from her face to the ceiling and back again, composing herself and clearing her throat she says, "If you are not going to snipe at me, then we can talk about Claudia...Helena...but we just...can't." 

She straightens, shrugs "You're right, of course. I should find my amusement elsewhere, not with an officer of the law..." 

Myka feels the sting of the words, "Helena" she says lowly, "Why do you find it so easy to..."

"I'm sorry, again," She sighs, "It seems I am adept at bringing an unhappy expression to your face." 

Myka wants so much to close the gap again, but she doesn't. She is conflicted, by their roles, the circumstances, though not by the feelings. The feelings, whatever they are, are real. As if reading Myka's mind, Helena does bridge the gap but she isn't so bold as to demand a kiss. She lightly touches Myka's arm instead, gives a gentle squeeze.

"Coffee?" she asks, before she moves away again, into the centre of the corridor, looking up to where suppressed laughter is coming from the nurses on duty that night. Myka nods because she has, despite Helena's seemingly heartfelt intentions, some questions to ask. They go to a late night cafe across from the hospital, to escape the sterility and to purchase something palatable.

"So, they are letting you stay overnight?" Myka questions as they sit opposite each other in a booth near to the rear fire exit. 

"I promised that neither I nor Steve would be an inconvenience," Helena offers a small smile.

"You mean you worked your charm?" Myka suppresses a smile of her own, and earns a raised brow in answer. Myka decides to address the subject of Helena's earlier displeasure head on,  
"Helena, we don't put guards on every victim in the city, and whoever, whatever it was - they clearly got what they wanted already..."

Helena doesn't say anything at first, then acquiesces, to a point, "And if they don't manage to hack her laptop...which is a high possibility given Claudia's talents?"

"Then they will have you and Steve to get through, I'm sure," Myka smiles tentatively, before sobering, "Besides, I'm sure they've filled you in on Todd Nolan's fear of the police. _If_ he is correct, then..."

"The less involved, the better. Ok, you'll find no argument from me on that score," Helena grimly says, lifting her drink to her lips, blowing then taking a sip.

Myka tries not to watch, mindful of where they were and what they were doing not fifteen minutes ago. "Promise me, Helena, when the time comes...you will leave us to do our job," Myka says, "We can't afford for, well, complications..." 

"Say what you mean, Myka," Helena scowls playfully, "You can't have your prime suspect in an abduction and murder case swanning around a meeting with a possible witness." 

"I thought that would be obvious, and you bring more than one complication, Helena." This Helena, she finds so much easier to talk with than the seething version she has seen more of recently, she sighs. "You know, I just wish we'd met again under different circumstances."

Helena just nods, "I'm sorry about earlier, it was unfair of me...I seem to be saying that a lot," she pauses, "I wish that too." 

"Are you ok, then, truly?" Myka asks tentatively, and Helena tugs at her hair, 

"Truly?" she says quietly, "Truly, it's been heartbreaking all over again, and surreal, and frustrating."

This time, Myka does reach across, touches Helena's hand briefly, cautiously. She honestly doesn't know how to respond with words, and Helena stops her from withdrawing her hand altogether, holds Myka's two middle fingers loosely on the table. 

"I was...content...the pain and regret was....less, and this has just..." She searches out Myka's eyes, "You know, the time we spent together, it was like a breath of fresh air...a whirlwind, even.." she smiles again. "Remember what I told you? - In those moments, not to feel guilty for living - I had only just realised it myself." 

Myka's eyelids flutter shut, recalling the confidences they'd shared, "Helena" she whispers, softly admonishing - because it would be so easy to become absorbed in this thing, _right now_ but she can't. There are still question marks, that hang between them, that hang between Helena and the DA's office. She is loathe to break this intimacy, but the puzzle of McPherson nags at Myka's mind, as does Steve's direction to ask Helena about that connection. 

"Helena," she repeats, moving her voice up a few notches, "About the bank...you asked about the bank, you thought maybe Diamond had taken something that went unreported?" Helena's fingers tighten slightly around Myka's, the relaxation of a few moments ago leaving her features.

Myka presses on, "I mentioned it to Steve...did he? There was a safe deposit box held at the bank by a James McPherson, and well..." 

Helena visibly flinches at the name, and pulls her fingers away from Myka's, straightening in her seat, and when she speaks there's an edgy quality to her tone, "McPherson? You are quite sure?" 

"Yes, sure," but Myka is confused, "Didn't Steve mention this? It came up while you were...in Vegas?"

Her eyes narrow, "No, he did not...most likely to avoid giving me incentive to return, yet here I am anyway, because someone attacked Claudia..." She has a certain look on her face, the same as the night Myka visited her at the hotel, it's calculating, and a little frantic. 

Myka dips her head to catch her attention, "Helena, please, tell me what this means?" 

She deflates a little, clearly apprehensive, "Alright, yes, but you must believe me, at the time I was desperate...." She tells the story of how she recklessly approached Walter Sykes, not understanding the danger he could pose. Myka murmurs under her breath, it is confirmation of her suspicion that Sykes was probably aware of more than he was letting on. 

"I convinced Steve that McPherson would be a good interim bounty for us to pursue," she looks away from Myka's intensely curious gaze, "I'm not proud of it, but Steve helped in that pursuit, and when we found him not long after, we were seperated but I obtained information from one of his associates - an address for where he was staying at the time - I hid this from Steve." 

Her voice drops to an almost whisper as she reveals to Myka that she supplied Sykes with that information, "In return, a few days later, we received a phone call with Diamond's location. Finally, after months..."

The dots connect for Myka, her voice betrays her growing worry, "McPherson was found dead a few days before you captured Diamond."

Helena drops her head further, "I know." 

"You traded a life for..." Myka sits back, a hand pulling and re-adjusting her hair, watching but not watching Helena. 

"I didn't know that, Myka, you have to believe me...." She cries out softly, so that the two other people in the cafe don't hear, "I thought only that he was collecting a debt...Steve had warned me, but I was naive. No, not naive, blinded by my grief and the need to find that man." 

"I seem to have to believe a lot of things you say, despite evidence to the contrary" Myka huffs out, cheeks and neck flushed hot with her own chagrin.

They sit in silence for a short while, Myka calms, while Helena simmers in a shame she really doesn't regret, but lives with because it led her to Christina's killer. Eventually, she looks at Myka, who merely sits and waits, because her mind is whirling.

"I know I have only given you cause to doubt me, what I've done, but I hope that when this is all over..." Helena speaks, and what is quiet to begin with trails off hesitantly, "What am I even saying...you must think..."

After another few moments, Helena pushes a hand through her hair, sits up straighter, "He had a safe box," she croaks out.

"Yes," Myka responds, happy to return to the present conundrum for now, "But he never reported anything missing, so if there was something in it, it was illegal." 

Helena speculates, "The robbery may have been solely for that.". 

"I checked the bank records for later that year, when the box was closed. With his death, his estate was in probate. It was accessed around a month before the robbery, then once a few weeks later by McPherson himself, and not again until a lawyer opened it. It contained an envelope with a playing card in it - the Ace of Spades."

"Death" Helena says, and she brings a hand to her mouth, "A warning...he was in hiding, he had put a torch to his own business." 

"It seems Diamond may have retrieved something of McPherson's, and left that warning in his wake."

"And my..." Helena is gritting her teeth, "Sykes, I helped him, and he probably sent that man to that bank..." she hisses, and closes her eyes, clearly holding back the sting of tears.

"Helena, Helena, look at me," Myka is insistent, and she moves to sit beside her instead of opposite. "You can't know that for sure, please, look at me." 

Helena raises her face to Myka, her eyes are dark and glistening, but Myka doesn't speak until they are looking into hers, until she can see her. "Listen to me. No one but Marcus Diamond is to blame for what happened to your little girl, especially not _you_. He...he...is the one..." 

Myka shakes her head, she can't voice that particular thought, and so she changes tack, "When I lost Sam, everyone was to blame - me, him, the cafe worker for not holding him back a few seconds more as he was paying, the taxi driver who held me up at the lights a block away..." she feels her own tears building and fights them off. "In the end there is one person responsible, the person who detonated that bomb. You see what I'm saying?"

Helena nods, "I know, Myka, I know what you are saying, but it doesn't stop me from feeling this...and there's something else..." she stops, wipes her face, "I need some air." She stands, forcing Myka to stand and step out of the booth as Helena throws money on the table.

Myka follows her outside into the marginally fresher air, though it's heavy with the threat of a thunderstorm. Helena walks rapidly along the sidewalk, hair flying behind her, Myka striding after her, "Helena!" 

After a few more steps she stops, swings around, so that Myka almost stumbles into her, "I went to see him..." 

"What do you mean, you went to see him?" Myka says slowly, a sick feeling pooling in her stomach. 

Helena pinches at her nose, flings a hand out as if feeling for the first drops of rain. "Sykes, I went to see Sykes...on my way to the hospital...he was not happy to see me," she barks out a short laugh.

"But why?" Myka is incredulous, "After what you have just told me, and with Diamond murdered, Helena, do you realise how that looks?"

"Of course I do...but Claudia was attacked, I was fuming," she spins away, facing away from Myka. 

"You think he's involved - the attack on the van, and everything?" Myka whispers, "Why didn't you share this?" 

"Because I have no proof of it!" she cries, "Because it's based on what happened before, a tenuous link, and a high price for information. Now this...I think something must have happened between Sykes and Diamond."

"And that led to his abduction?" Myka queries, not quite convinced.

"Yes" she breathes, "But of course Sykes denied it, he made threats, he even knew of our...association..."

Myka isn't sure what to say to that, except, clenching her fists, "He threatened you?"

"Not directly, Myka, he said 'your lady detective should look closer to home'" she is grim faced, "It seems I may have put you in danger with my impulsiveness."

"It sounds more like an accusation to me," Myka says, thinking about the same accusation from their on the run hacker.

Helena closes the gap between them, clasps Myka's balled hands in hers, "Be that as it may...it also implies a threat, Myka, he was telling me he knows another of my pressure points besides Claudia and..." Her eyes are black as night in this light, the fierceness, worry and _affection_ Myka sees in them makes her falter, but Helena continues to speak.

"I need you to call Steve," she is saying, and when Myka feels herself give Helena a questioning look, Helena says, "To stop me doing something very stupid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They did need to talk to each other, so plenty of B&W in this one...hence a bit unbalanced but it felt like best place to pause...


	9. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following day, Myka receives advice from Pete, and then Claudia's diligence pays off....

The following morning Myka wakes in an unfamiliar bed, her mouth is dry and her head groggy. Then she remembers rolling up to Pete's at close to 1am, and she groans. She has spent the night asleep on top of this bed, fully clothed, and now she stumbles to the bathroom, and groans again as she pulls her lids apart to see the slightly pink whites of her eyes. There's a knock on the door.

"You awake in there Agent?" Pete's too cheerful voice drifts through the door, "Breakfast is served."

"I'll be out in five, Pete," she calls, before splashing water on her face and pulling her hair back up into a tidier knot.

Pete is dropping pancakes from a pan onto a plate on the breakfast bar when she emerges from his room, and she spies blankets on his sofa.

"Pete, I'm sorry..."

"Hush, get some breakfast," he says, and with a wide smile, "then you can grovel."

They eat in silence until Myka can't contain herself any longer.

"I'm sorry for turning up and chewing your ear off....and letting you sleep on the sofa," she says

"Hey that's what partners are for," he shrugs, "I sometimes end up out here anyway if I'm watching a late night game repeat, so don't sweat it."

"I was just a bit too...hyped up...to go home," she says, "this whole case..."

"Is frustrating...in more ways that one." he says, "yeah I got that...Listen, Mykes I want us to bring Frederic up to speed, we need to."

She nods as he continues, "It's not just about covering our asses, it's about having the backup when we need it. And _if_ there are any less than honest cops, I'm one hundred percent sure she is not one of them." 

She sighs, hesitates, "You're right...and Sykes, that is one hot potato." 

He stands to clear their plates, "So, H.G. is continuing to make an impression..." he deadpans, and now she groans. 

"I really do talk too much when I'm tired and stressed out..." Grimacing, she watches Pete as he looks back over his shoulder mouthing _oh yes_.

"It's no bad thing, if i’m being honest your face sometimes gives the game away..so it's good when you actually talk to me Mykes, at least I can try to help then. Why suffer in silence?" 

"Well you certainly don't Lattimer!" she laughs, before he turns to prepare a second pot of coffee, and her mind drifts back to last night.

Helena's vocalisation of her mistrust of herself had scared Myka, in part because she was an officer of the law - already walking a thin line between duty and the possibly foolish trust of a woman she actually barely knew. By Helena's own admission, she could be impulsive, and displayed a protectiveness of those she cared about that, while endearing, could lead her to take the unadvisable course of action. In the face of Helena’s plea, Myka had decided the best option _was_ to head back up to Steve, and to refocus Helena on facts rather than threats. Pulling with a light pressure, then dropping Helena's hands, Myka had directed them back to the hospital. Riding the elevator, Myka had felt tentative fingers touch the back of her hand, re-seeking contact, and Helena's voice suddenly rose above the hum of the gears as they neared the 7th floor.

"I...care about you Myka. I care about so few people nowadays that I can't see them hurt by anyone." Myka had felt rather than seen the shrug, "However much I may hurt them myself..."

"You will only hurt me if you do something rash, and alone, Helena," Myka hadn't been able to resist pushing her hand into the touch, "We've both had cause to regret words and actions. Let's just...let's just get through this. Then...." 

She turned as she spoke and saw Helena looking at her, the affection in her eyes had returned tenfold, stopping Myka in her tracks. The corners of Helena's mouth had turned slightly upwards, her mood clearly lifting a little and Myka had felt the weight of responsibility fall heavier on her own shoulders. The elevator had stopped at that moment, the doors sliding open to save Myka from whatever she may have felt compelled to say or do. She'd pulled her hand away from the tickle of Helena's fingers, and stepped out into the corridor.

"Come on, I think Steve and Claudia will be very interested in what we've been discussing. A problem shared..."

Helena followed, murmuring, "Is a problem halved? Not likely but I understand the sentiment, Myka, thank you for that, and for not running earlier when I told you about McPherson."

"Your _problem_ is not telling people things, Helena. Beside, why would I run from you now." 

Myka remembers saying this more than anything, because it's true, why would she run from this thing with Helena _now_. Just like Helena, she is fiercely protective of those she cares about, and for better or worse she had declared their association to her boss. Not seeing it through to a conclusion of any sort was not an option. They'd returned to the hospital room to find both Claudia and Steve asleep. Claudia was slumped back against her pillow, arms wrapped tightly around her closed laptop. Steve had been in the armchair next to the bed, but he had opened his eyes seconds later, clearly only allowing himself to doze, and then the three of them had left the room to discuss the new found information. 

Now, in the cold light of day, sat opposite Pete, Myka forced herself to avoid thoughts of what Helena might do. She had to place her faith in Steve to manage the situation, with his calm, clear voice of reason and his closeness to Helena. Pete had reiterated this to her last night, that she cannot do everything, everywhere, she was only human. Myka had also come to Pete to explain what they'd decided - to pressure the online presence known as Houdini to come in, using the very fact that Claudia had been attacked as incentive. That whoever he was afraid of may be getting closer and the longer he left it, the higher the chance of being intercepted by the wrong people. 

What Myka didn't know right then was that things were about to accelerate at a faster pace, and if the unexpected had thrown her off balance so far, she was in for a rough ride. They were sat, slowly waking up with the aid of more coffee when Pete's mobile rang. The news that the second prison guard had woken from the medically induced coma meant that by 9am they had been to Myka's apartment so she could change, and were about to interview said guard. 

"Let's hope he's remembered something useful," Pete said, before they entered his room, at the same hospital where Claudia was due for release that day. Tommy Baxter's bed was surrounded, by a young woman, a little girl and an older couple. His girlfriend, young child and parents were understandably overjoyed, and it was with reluctance that Myka and Pete ushered them all out of the door while they spoke with him.

Tommy had a bandage covering his head, brown hair poking out at odd angles, and an untidy beard spread over his youthful, if somewhat pale face. He eyed them warily, and Myka sensed his nerves immediately, while he picked at the identification band around his wrist.

"Mr Baxter, Tommy..." she said with a smile, "It's good to see you have regained consciousness, how do you feel?"

"Ok, I guess," he croaked.

"You have a lovely family," Myka continued, "I'm sure they must be extremely happy to see you awake."

He flinched at that, Myka noticed, and Pete did too. "Tommy," he said from the other side of the bed, "How much have the docs, or your family told you since you woke up?"

Tommy coughed, so Pete grabbed the glass of water at his bedside and offered it to him. Taking a sip, he cleared his throat, "Errr just that I've been in a coma for weeks, since the van was in the accident...a blow to the head, they said."

"So you remember that?" Myka says, and he nods carefully. "Can you recall what happened, talk us through it?" 

"Umm, there's not much to tell....I remember Mitch suddenly cursing, there was some kind of impact and Mitch swerved us off the road,"

"You didn't see what caused it?" Pete says

"No...I..I was probably looking at my phone, I do that a lot when I'm not driving the van..." he doesn't look Pete directly in the eye, but flits between him and Myka.

"What then?" she says.

"I remember feeling light headed, and Mitch was looking a bit dazed too - those seatbelts hurt when you crash, did you know that?" Tommy was seeming to grow into his story now, "After a minute or two I climbed down from my seat into the road and then..." He stops, as if trying to remember exactly what happened.

"Please, carry on..." Myka prompted, recalling the CCTV footage they'd seen the day after the event, and sure enough, Tommy recounts being approached by the biker. 

"This woman came up to me, was pointing at the ground, but I was just dizzy and then she must've hit me, 'cus the next thing I'm waking up here..." he shrugs, as if that is that, but Myka presses.

"A woman..." she says, and he nods, "you are sure?" Another nod, and Myka asks, "How can you be sure it was a woman?" 

He hesitates, "Well, it just was..."

"Did they speak?" Pete says, as he plays with the badge on his belt, and Tommy eyed it nervously.

"Yeah...yeah that was it, she was yelling too, for me to get down..." 

"Hmm" Myka's eyes narrow, this is a witness, a victim, but his behaviour is suspicious. It could just be the nerves, but she can't let it go. "Tommy, you seem worried, we are just here to get the facts, we are on your side...is something worrying you?"

He doesn't say anything for a long time, but Myka and Pete are used to this. Often a witness will start talking again, mentioning details they hadn't thought important, just to fill the silence. Or, if they are holding something back, they become convinced their questioner knows already and the best course of action is to confess. 

His demeanour suddenly sags, the hand with the IV drip in lifts to rub at his face. "I'm sorry, she said I had to stay quiet or...." his eyes squeeze shut, "...my girlfriend and my little girl..."

Pete steps closer to him, "Tommy, what about them...tell us" he says softly.

"Promise me you will protect them..., and oh, my job I'm gonna lose my job.." he gets more distressed as he's talking and Pete puts a reassuring hand on his arm.

"You can trust us, Tommy" he says, "In our experience, the fact you did what was asked of you means they are safe now. The perp won't care, they already got what they wanted." Pete's own brand of charm and honest face does the trick. 

Tommy sighs, "I knew it was a woman, not because she spoke, because she didn't, not then."

He recounts how a week prior to the transport, he had received a phone call at his house, threatening his family, naming the place his girlfriend worked and the pre-school his daughter attended. The caller had given him a phone number, he was instructed to send a message with the route of Diamond's prison van once he knew it. As one of only four guards who ferried prisoners between the prison and court he would most likely be privy to that information. So it had proved, and he had done as instructed, fearing for his family. 

"The woman who called," Myka said, "what did she sound like..?"

"Her voice was muffled...like she had her mouth covered," he says.

Pete asks the question Myka doesn't, "Did you detect an accent at all?" he asks.

"Just...American.." Tommy says, then squints, "But it was strange, like she was trying to disguise her voice..." he says and Pete raises his eyebrows as he looks across to Myka who avoids his eyes.

She says, "So perhaps you knew her..."

But he shakes his head, "There's only a few women in our section, and the ones that are...that biker was the wrong size," he says, "She didn't speak, but it must've been a woman..." 

\---

Back at the precinct, Pete pulls Myka in to see Captain Frederic, but they barely have time to speak with her, because while they are in her office Myka's phone buzzes with a message from Steve. From her hospital bed, Claudia has already convinced their online suspect to meet, he is clearly jittery and the theft of her laptop, coupled with her assault means he is ready to come in - that night.

"I've already given you plenty of leeway on this," Captain Frederic says, as Myka ends the call after taking it on speaker, "I'm not entirely happy with this plan to rely on young Miss Donovan." 

"If we bring Nolan in, does it matter so much how?" Pete says, and brings Myka into it, "We are both uneasy about it, Captain, but if it comes off...."

Myka continues, "Claudia has built up a trust with him, Captain, she's very good." She ticks fingers off on her hand, "We'll have a felon back in custody, who is due to testify one case...plus he is a witness who may help us locate another criminal..." 

"It's a two for one deal," Pete says, and Captain Frederic is frowning at their double act when there's a knock at her door and she gestures for an officer to enter with some urgent papers that require signing. 

"Ok," she says, "I want you to bring the CSIs on the case up to speed, see what they can get from the guard's mobile number...and I want to be informed should this individual decide he wants to meet up." She takes her spectacles off, slowly wiping them clean on a cloth, waiting until the officer leaves. "And Detectives, allegations of police involvement in any crime is a serious matter. Nolan may simply be creating himself an extra insurance policy...nevertheless, if he makes contact, inform myself only, we'll go from there."

When they emerge, Myka and Pete look at each other, sporting disbelieving faces.

"I did not expect anymore rope..." Pete says, "I doubt we'll get more."

"No, me neither," Myka says, "Let's get out of here, I need to eat before we meet with Steve and Claudia."

"And H.G." Pete says

"And H.G." Myka concedes, "They were just leaving the hospital when Steve rang earlier, he's given me the address of their new motel."

They pick up a take out and Pete persuades Myka to swing by the fire house where his current potential girlfriend Kelly's ambulance station is based. They sit on a bench across the street. 

Myka puts a hand to her brow, squinting in the sun, "Why aren't you going in there to say hi?" she say, taking a bite from her sandwich, laughing to herself.

"She's at work" he says with a shrug.

"So you are stalking her?" Myka laughs louder this time, and looks at his reddening face. "Oh my God, you are stalking her..." 

"Just wait," he says, and winks brazenly. 

Myka shakes her head, but a few minutes later the garage door to the Ambulance station rolls up, and the rig pulls out into the open space ahead. Kelly jumps out and grabs a bucket and sponge, while a man who is presumably her partner, emerges from the side of the building with a hose.

"You are stalking her while she washes the ambulance?" Myka deadpans.

Pete jumps up, grabs the extra brown paper bag at his side and virtually skips across the road, "Watch and learn, Detective Bering, watch and learn..." he yells.

Myka watches as he holds the bag behind his back and delivers it with a flourish to a surprised Kelly. Her arms twine up around his neck and he earns a long, soft kiss while Kelly's partner puts his fingers to his lips and wolf whistles. Pete jogs back across and flops down next to Myka.

"See...watch and learn..." He has a smug grin on his face.

"So the way to Kelly's heart is through baked goods?" she says, "Thanks for the tip." 

He gives her a shocked look, "Hey! She’s spoken for!” he laughs, “It's the simple gestures, that's all. No drama..."

She rolls her eyes at him, "So, watch and learn, that's your advice?" 

"Maybe bank that," he says, "I just mean, things don't have to be complicated, that's still your choice."

"Why did I think it was a good idea to rock up at your place," she feels under scrutiny, exposed by her honesty the previous night.

He turns a little, drapes his arm across the back of the bench, "Hey, I just....I just want you to be careful, keep your barriers up, y'know?" he scrunches his face, clearly preparing to say something he knows she'll dislike. "I've worked out that once you have this trust, this faith in someone, it's hard for you to see beyond that..."

"Pete, my barriers haven't dropped, believe me," She stands, "And I'm not as naive as you seem to think I am. I just don't think it's a bad thing to have faith in someone..."

"No, you have more faith in me than I do sometimes..." He squints up at her disbelief, "You do. But H.G., she's, she's..."

"You think I'm misplacing my trust."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"She has been through a lot, Pete, I can relate to that...we are all flawed in some way. Some more than others, but I believe her, I just do, and I know I'm probably alone in that..." 

"You see the good in people above anything, but it doesn't mean they can't hurt you." He sighs and turns back to face the road.

"Don't you think I know that? She’s even said much the same to me. It doesn't even have to be intentional, I know that Pete." 

He gives her a rueful smile, "What we _intend_ to happen, isn't always in our control."

She has nothing to say to him, she knows she's vulnerable, is trying hard to curb her feelings, to guard against what may or may not happen over the coming days, weeks. Helena opening up to her by admitting culpability for events of the past and professing that she cares for Myka, these things have only served to confuse Myka more. She longs for the simplicity Pete demonstrates with Kelly, but she has never had simple relationships, that is not the Bering way. This thing with Helena, this in between something and nothing, it feels like it will never be simple. Simplicity would be to deny it, to be Detective Bering and H.G.. Simplicity would be to not want Helena's fingers to dance on her arms, to not want to nuzzle into long dark hair, to not want the feel of lips against her skin. Simplicity is not to wish to be back in a snow surrounded cabin, away from the world, away from murder, from judgement, from doubt. 

\----

They met with Steve and Claudia at their motel as planned. Helena was not there, "She's checking something out," Claudia had said and waved away Myka's querying gaze, "Don't worry, Detective Long n' Tall, she's not breaking the law or anything."

Todd Nolan, who they believe 'Houdini' to be, hasn't given Claudia a location to meet at. Instead, she has given him the number of a disposable mobile Steve picked up earlier that day, and he will communicate via text and online.

"Cautious," Myka said.

Claudia frowned then, "He is scared, like very scared. He needs to be sure of you and if this is how, this is how."

Myka had herself frowned, "You won’t be there?” 

Steve coughed, pointed at himself, as Claudia scowled, “Doctor's orders.” 

“Ok, so when we actually pick him up he's going to want proof of who we are," Myka stated.

"Yeah, but whether I’m there or not he wants some kind of token," Claudia thought for a moment, then from her car keys pulled off a key ring. It's a Stormtrooper. "We bonded a bit over Star Wars," she shrugged.

"Good call then," Myka said, smiling at Claudia who shrugged like good ideas were her mission in life.

\---

Myka and Pete each went home for a while, and met back at the precinct mid evening, completing paperwork, until at 7pm the call came. Steve gave them a location to meet him at, and as they left the station, Pete called the Captain at home to fill her in. Outside, the air is thick, another summer thunderstorm brewing and as they climb into the car, the first heavy drops of rain hit the windscreen. By the time they pull up at the gas station where Steve is waiting undercover, leaning casually against his motorcycle, the rain is pouring down hard and fast. 

Steve grins as they pull up, almost bouncing on his heels, “You brought such lovely weather with you.”

“What’s got you so _cheery_?” Pete says, looking between Steve and Myka.

“Oh, the fact we may get somewhere tonight, finally.” Steve waves the mobile in his hand, “Just waiting for Claudia… but I suspect we may be out awhile tonight.”

“Great, and I forgot my umbrella!” Pete grumbled sarcastically, just as the mobile in Steve's hand started to vibrate. 

“Claud” he said as he answered, then after a few moments he looks up at them, “Ok, got it. You two...follow me?”

Their first stop is the World Arena, there is an ice skating event on so there are hoards of families, couples, groups of teenagers rushing about the car park, in an effort to escape the rain. They've been instructed to go to a box office and collect tickets in the name of H.Houdini.

"Thinks he's the dungeon master this kid," Pete says as he and Myka stand in line, huddled under the arched cover of the walkway. Steve has held back to watch the crowd, just in case. 

"It's a test I guess? We won't have ID to collect them..." she winks, "But we have badges"

The clerk at the counter is young, doesn't argue with the Colorado Springs Detectives in front of him, it turns out the ticket was bought with cash that morning, and left for collection. He hands over an envelope with a single ticket in, plus a note with the name of a road. 

"Pikes Peak Drive" Steve says when they meet up at the exit, the car park now less busy as the start of the event nears. He rings Claudia, but puts her on speaker.

"So guys, what you got?" she says expectantly.

"Just a road name, and the ticket I guess," Steve says, "Block 12, Row E, Seat 10."

"Gimme a sec," she says, to the sounds of keys tapping, "By the way, H.G. is on her way back to me, she has some very interesting information from a previous haunt of hers..."

"Does it help us now?" Steve says, Myka feels him glance at her, "Cos I think it can wait if not."

Claudia chuckles, "Spoilsport," she says, "...and the answer is I don't think so, but she was cut off before she could finish, poor reception, I'll give you a heads up when she's back."

Myka quietly lets out a breath, and Claudia is already speaking again, "Ok, he wants you to leave the token on a marker somewhere along there...." 

Myka suddenly has a thought, "The 'E' could be for East Pikes Peak, Claudia, what's at the address - 1210 or 1012?"

More clicking of keys, "Well, 1210 is opposite Spurgeon Field, a sports complex....oh wait, there's a historical marker..."

"Nikola Tesla!" Myka remembers, "It's for Tesla's experimental lab, I remember now...we learned about it in school."

"Ok, that's scary," Pete says, eyeing Myka with awe, "But the best we've got."

"Claud, ask him is that right," Steve suddenly says, eyeing the dark clouds above, "We don't have time for a wild goose chase, this is bad enough."

"Head that way and I'll confirm," Claudia says. 

They are already there when confirmation comes through, so Myka takes out the Stormtrooper key ring and hangs it off the metal placard marker which sits along the edge of the field along the drive. 

"This is crazy," she mutters, "If nothing comes of this, the Captain is gonna have us doing desk duty for months..." 

Steve is listening intently to Claudia on the line, "Ok next stop, Spurgeon Field, baseball field number one," he swipes the moisture from his head, and points across the grass. The rain has reduced in intensity for now, but they've already heard the distant rumble of thunder. 

They park up in the main parking area, this is a large sports complex with plenty of places to hide, and Myka remembers as a teen playing on the now water logged volleyball sand pit at the far end of the parking lot. It's just on 8:30pm and it is quiet, if there had been any night practice it had clearly been abandoned through fear of the coming storm. There are a number of external lights on, casting an eerie glow over the wet floor, but the fields are in darkness. The clubhouse near to the entrance of the complex shows no signs of life except for dim lights in the apartment above. 

"I don't like this," Pete says slowly, reaching inside his jacket to feel for his firearm and Myka instinctively does the same. It's warm, but the dampness in the air lends a chill to her skin, and she shivers, thinking that it doesn't require Pete's famed intuition to know that this situation isn't ideal. They shelter under the bleachers of the first baseball field, and Steve jogs over having made a quick ride up and around the parking lot. 

"I've been talking to Claudia on the way, she says he's ready to come in. Sounds like he paid some kid to check our token and send him a photo." 

Pete's smile is more of a grimace, and keeps his voice as quiet and whispered as Steve’s "Well Hallelujah....so why here?"

"We think he's familiar with it that's all - turns out he went to the local High School," Steve says, and winks, "People love the familiar, even when they should know better."

There's another rumble in the sky, it sounds closer and sure enough 15 seconds later, there's a flash in the distance. 

"I'm to go collect him, you two wait here," Steve murmurs, "apparently he's sat up in the middle stand.”

"No, Steve," Myka hisses quietly, "We don't split..."

"Myka, he doesn't trust the police and you two, sorry to say, scream police," Steve starts walking along the nearest passage through to the field, pointing up into the bleachers, "I'll be five minutes, he's just there."

Myka looks at Pete who shrugs, "One either end?" he says, and Myka nods unhappily before striding to the opposite end of the middle bleachers, which back onto a low building that obstructs the usual view underneath the seating. She is stationed at the next passageway, but they both are in sight of each other and the field, as well as the way back out to the parking lot. 

Myka unfastens the stud on the holster underneath her jacket, her unease exacerbated by the way the night has gone so far - too easy - and this deserted setting fills her with foreboding. Nolan's bizarre method of setting up the meeting seems paranoid, but something has made him cautious, and until he is in custody and they can speak to him, a risk remains. She checks her watch, it's been three minutes, and since hearing the faint thud of Steve jumping over a barrier onto the metallic stairway and making a cautious ascent up through benches, she'd heard nothing. That is, aside from the occasional rumble of a vehicle on nearby roads, and the relentless patter of rain interspersed with the growl of the nearing thunder. Despite her thin waterproof jacket, the hair at the edges of her face is plastered to her skin, and she points to the sky with a grimace when Pete looks her way and gives her an exaggerated thumbs up. She can just about see his face, and the darkness makes it difficult to see anything on the seating above them. 

Another few minutes pass and just as she starts to get restless, Myka’s mobile starts vibrating, it’s Steve which is a surprise to her. 

“Myka…” his voice is low and muffled, laced with concern, “....there’s an unknown figure approaching from the lot, through the bushes at the far side, they are trying to hide…it’s dark but I think they have a helmet on.”

Myka curses, and lightly jogs towards Pete as she whispers into the phone, “Nolan?......Helena?”

“No, and no. I’ve got him here,” he rushes out, “I’m trying to keep his scaredy ass calm…” 

Myka puts a finger to her mouth as Pete looks at her with concern, she replies, “Ok, we’ll check it out, if you see the opportunity, get him out of here.”

“Got it...I’ll try contact Claud too…” and the phone goes silent. 

Myka puts her mouth close to Pete’s ear, “Steve’s got Nolan, but someone wearing a helmet is approaching from further up the parking lot.” 

“Ok, I’ll go along here, you around back?” Pete says, pointing towards the pitch and then along the rear of the next stand, towards the entrance and the road out to where their car and Steve’s bike are parked up. 

Myka wipes her brow as she nods, “Be careful,” and Pete is away, moving swiftly and silently along the edge of the passage, unclipping his firearm. 

Myka pulls out her own weapon and thin night light, holding both up along her line of sight as she moves along the back of the bleachers, taking care to use what cover there is - her heart pounding as the adrenaline kicks in for real. She puffs out a heavy breath, then her head shoots up when she hears what could be gunfire, but in that same moment there’s a loud crack of thunder, and a few seconds later lightning forks down over East Pike Peak Drive. 

“Damn it..” she mutters, and scampers to the corner of the stand, arms outstretched, straining to see properly in the rain and shadows. Then, there’s another crack, and this time it’s unmistakably a single gunshot, but it sounds like it’s come from above and behind Myka.   
There’s a yell, her named called in warning, she’s unsure if it’s from Pete or Steve but as she cautiously rounds the corner, her whole body is knocked off balance by a rushing, dark figure colliding into her. Myka spins, falling backwards, and she puts out a hand to break her fall but the impact jars hard up her arm. She drops into the wet, slightly muddy ground below, her Glock dropping loosely from her hand. Grunting, she scrambles with slippery hands to pick up the gun, but a booted foot kicks at it and presses down onto her hand. 

Looking up in panic, Myka is confronted with the barrel of a different handgun, held by a gloved hand. The figure above is slight, dressed head to toe in black, and as Myka stares wide eyed, mind racing with fears of many different kinds, a helmeted head tilts to one side as if regarding Myka with familiarity. As if making a decision.


	10. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pick up with Myka right where we left her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wee bit earlier than usual, seeing as I left you dangling in the previous chapter.

It’s been mere seconds but feels like forever, and Myka forces her breathing to steady, forces herself to look directly into the visor above her but sees only darkness. Thunder booms directly above and lightning crackles against the tall metal poles surrounding the adjacent field. The head of her assailant angles upwards as they are both illuminated in light, there's a loud yell, and this time Myka recognises Steve's voice. Swiftly, the boot pressing down on Myka's hand lifts and in one motion kicks against her shoulder, pushing her back down against the ground, flailing. She has no time to think, refuses to think about why the biker didn’t pull the trigger, about how they seemed to _know_ her. She staggers up onto her feet and sees the figure racing through sparse trees towards the parking lot, looks down and spots her gun under the bleachers. Ducking under to grab it, she wipes her hands down her front, wincing at a sharp pain in her wrist and she yells, “Pete! Steve!”

“Myka…!” Steve is there already, stuttering to a halt in front of her, dragging a skinny, bespectacled, almost _boy_ with him. 

“Pete’s been hit…” Myka feels panic rising but Steve places a calming hand on her shoulder, “He’s fine, probably calling your Captain by now - EMT are on the way, you ok?” 

“Good, that's good...yeah, I'm fine...yeah...the biker...that way….” she points towards the lot and starts to step forward.

“Wait, Myka...” Steve has to yell as thunder rumbles again. 

“Steve, this is...” she is ready to argue in favour of pursuit before it's too late, but then there is a rumble of a different kind, and a motorcycle roars in, skidding around 180 degrees to a halt close by. The leather jacket worn by this biker is adorned by white stripes, and Myka feels the tension in her body start to ease. When a gloved hand flips up the helmet's visor, she doesn’t realise how much of a sigh leaves her mouth. Steve looks at her knowingly, before his forehead creases and his mouth forms a tight line.

He drags Nolan next to Myka, "Stay," he says and she doesn't think she's ever seen much emotion on his face, let alone the threat of anger.

“Have I missed all the fun?!” Helena shouts, her voice wavering as Steve approaches her. They have a quick, terse sounding head to head before he turns back to Myka and jerks his head indicating she should approach.

"Promise me Pete is ok?” she says, knowing instinctively that they are going to give chase.

“I promise, he is under cover, we'll go get him,” Steve says, glancing at Nolan still stood nervously clutching at a messenger bag slung across his body, looking decidedly nauseous.

“I’ll be speaking to you later, Todd Nolan," she says sternly, controlling the undercurrent of anger she's feeling towards him for this idiotic set up, because it's made no difference. Someone knew when and where to find them. She takes a gulp of air and looks at Helena, who is holding out a spare helmet. Myka feels her mouth quirk at one corner, despite the mess this night has become, she feels a lightness she hasn't done for a while.

Helena grins,“There’s a switch just under the chin, to turn on comms, you can fill me in...hop on, and hold tight…” 

Myka climbs on and snakes her arms around Helena’s waist as she revs the engine, then with a salute to Steve, she accelerates and they burst out into the parking lot beyond. Desperately scanning the huge open grassy area and the road beyond, Myka holds the wet leather of Helena's jacket, as lightning flashes behind them again. It's only been a few minutes since the assailant left Myka on the floor, and she worries it's too late, but suddenly she spots something.

“There!” she exclaims, pulling a hand away and pointing beyond the far end of the lot, where a motorcycle is just about visible, shooting across the wet grass, the rider clearly deciding that off road was the best route for a quick getaway. 

Helena's voice comes through on the radio mic, “We’ll take the roads, safer and quicker,” and she presses down on the pedal again, so that Myka lurches backwards and has to grab tight against the pain in her wrist. The adrenaline of earlier returns with interest, only this time it’s not through fear, it's through the thrill of the chase and the thrill of the body she’s clutching to now.  
She's ridden on a motorcycle before, taken out on a few dates by a college cool kid many years ago. It was nothing at all like this. Helena talks her through it as she strives to navigate the rain soaked roads - _'lean into corners', 'tuck your head and knees in to reduce resistance', 'hold tight now'_. Myka hears amusement in that last instruction, and thinks that she will allow herself the indulgence of any future invitations to ride with Helena.

The weather has forced most people indoors, it’s now gone 9pm and there are hardly any pedestrians, traffic is sparse. The rain is abating slightly but spray from the road compensates as they race south, passing an EMT heading back the way they came, lights flashing. 

“I hope Pete is ok” Myka says, breaking the silence to voice her worry.

“Steve wouldn’t lie, if he says Pete is fine, he is,” Helena states with conviction.

Myka seizes an opening, "Steve didn't seem to happy to see you..."

Helena sounds chastened, but also a bit wounded when she answers, "He wanted me nowhere near this little rendezvous tonight...he was concerned I may 'complicate' matters..." She pauses, "I'm afraid I twisted Claudia's arm to tell me where to find you."

"...complicate matters..." Myka repeats softly, thinking she can relate to Steve's sentiment.

Helena's voice raises an octave, "Yes...but I'm here now, and it seems I will be of use after all..." and then she deliberately changes the subject, "looks like we are heading for the highway….”

Myka squints ahead, but struggles to see much in the blur of roadside lights and watery reflections, “How can you see anything?!"

“I have a good eye for two red dots in the distance, it’s a bit of instinct and experience,” Helena’s voice is calm again.

“Are we gaining?” Myka winces as they run a red light, and Helena releases a hand to briefly but firmly squeeze Myka's arms around her midriff.

"You are safe with me, I promise," she says, before scoffing, "And of course we are gaining!" 

Myka tells her she's happier when Helena has two hands in control, and as Helena grumbles playfully, Myka notices the road signs they are passing - they will soon be at the highway that cuts through the southern half of Colorado Springs. 

“I should call in our location, if we are headed to Highway 24, we might be able to set up a block,” 

“They won’t actually go on the Highway, for that reason...I guarantee we’ll be headed into some area with lots of twists and turns - especially if they know we are on their tail.”

Helena speaks confidently and sure enough they are close to the highway when even Myka sees the movement of a motorcycle as it veers sharply to the right and into a large cemetery. Ten seconds later they are turning themselves, Helena slowing to ensure they don’t skid on the slick surface. The bike ahead bombs straight across to the other side and beyond, Helena doggedly pursuing, cursing under her breath as their quarry leads them into a large residential area. They twist and turn through the row upon row of houses and the linked roads of a typical suburban community. At one point they think they’ve lost their target, coming to a halt at a crossroad, Helena held a hand up to silence Myka, lifted her visor and waited in the light rainfall with the low rumble of retreating thunder in the distance. Not five seconds later there’s the sound of a horn blaring and the screech of tyres to their left and Helena's yelp is almost childlike, she flips her visor and without preamble accelerates into a turning motion to follow the noise. 

Sure enough there’s a car up ahead, lights bright, skewed up onto the sidewalk and they fly past “I see it!” Helena breathes with glee, but Myka just hopes this is over soon, because the initial thrill is giving way to trepidation.

“Heading south again,” Myka says, to focus, “this will take us over Fountain Creek, and either up to the Highway or a straight road all the way to Cheyenne State Park...” and then her eyes widen, because up ahead the bright blinding lights on the front of a huge truck are headed straight for both them and the biker, who is just fifty meters ahead. The truck is driving erratically, veering left and right, horn blaring as the driver seems to struggle to to keep it under control. Their biker doesn’t slow down as Helena has done, so when the truck suddenly lurches from left to right as they are watching, time seems to move at a snail's pace.

The biker switches their projected course dramatically, attempting to swerve past the truck on the opposite side of the road; but the slick surface and a miscalculation see the bike just miss the oncoming juggernaut, and start to slide out of control, into the low barrier at the side of the road. Helena has slowed to a crawl and they watch in horror as the biker is thrown up and over the metal railings, down into the rough grass of the wasteland beyond. The truck is gradually gaining traction and comes to a halt on the far side, but Helena ignores it, taking them right up to the crumpled motorcycle ahead. 

“It’s another Triumph bike,” is the first thing she says, as Myka is pulling off her helmet.

“Helena, call the EMT, I’m going down here,” she says, pulling out her Glock again.

Helena touches her arm, "Let me come..."

"No, stay up here, they are armed," Myka pleads, looking into Helena's eyes. Her expression is unreadable, and Myka is grateful when she just nods her head and pulls out her phone. 

She hears Helena talking to the emergency services as she backtracks down the road to scamper down around the end of the barrier. It’s not a high drop, but the force of the impact meant the biker would’ve had little control over how they landed. Luckily there is light from a nearby warehouse spilling over the land, which is soggy underfoot. Myka can see tall grass, shrubs and bits of trash blown in by the wind, then she hears a groan and directs her gun and flashlight light towards the sound. Approaching cautiously, she sees the biker lying on their back, arms splayed out, and the ankle of one leg tucked under the other looks to be at the wrong angle. Myka looks away from that, and sees an arm twitching and then suddenly moving to try and retrieve something from inside the open leather jacket. 

"Stop!" Myka steps forward, pointing down, “Take your hand out slowly,”

The figure groans again, but sure enough, pulls their hand out and flops it back out to the side in defeat. Myka swiftly pushes her own hand in and pulls out the handgun that was pointed at her not so long ago, checks the safety and tucks it away into her jacket pocket. 

“I’m going to flip your visor so we can talk, don't move” she says clearly, but then she senses Helena approaching from behind. 

“Helena,” Myka’s tone is guarded, _this_ is why she has felt trepidation - the possibility of Helena meeting the cause of her recent problems with the police. 

“I’m fine, Myka, honestly,” Helena sighs, “Despite what Steve, and apparently you, fear. The EMT is en route." 

This is the time to trust in the woman stood before her. Her eyes are wary, but tired, her hair is damp and her skin has a light sheen of moisture, and Myka senses that Helena, like her, just wants closure now. 

"Ok, Helena," she says and turns back to the figure on the ground.

Myka bends and pushes the plastic guard up and the face beneath _is_ that of a woman. She has a ruddy complexion, large eyes and there are a few wisps of blonde hair visible. 

"Stay still," Myka says, "You have done some damage." 

"Well shoot, detective, don't you think I know that," the woman wheezes with a slight drawl. 

Behind her, Myka hears Helena gasp, and then she is beside her, peering intently at the prone woman below.

"I remember you," she hisses, and Myka holds one of Helena's arms which are clenched tight but unmoving at her sides. The woman grunts and just stares up in defiance.

"Helena?" Myka says, as the sound of an approaching EMT pierces the night air - it spurs Helena to step back, turn away and head back up the bank to the road without a word.

Myka sighs, asks the woman her name and unsurprisingly gets a stony silence in return. A few minutes later two EMT responders are coming down around the road barrier, one carrying a stretcher, the other a medical bag. Myka desperately wants to follow Helena up, but she can't leave until their captive is secure in the ambulance. When she does step back up onto the road, she sees Helena sitting back against the roadside barrier close to where her own motorcycle is parked. As Myka approaches, she looks up and the wariness remains, but there's something else, it's confusion.

"She was with Marcus Diamond the day Steve and I captured him...." she whispers, "We assumed...." her eyes open, narrowing, "she was clearly not what we thought..."

"Do you know her name?" Myka has kept back a few steps, unsure.

Helena pushes off the barrier, "No, she'd left the house before Steve went in for him," she draws a step closer, a shaky uncertain smile gracing her features, "It seems my past is the gift that keeps on giving, Detective."

Myka shakes her head, feels herself drawn in by that smile, her melancholy, "We all have a past, Helena..." and the sound of the ambulance door shutting reminds her where they are, what is happening, "Do you think she works for Sykes?" 

"It's possible, even back then, I guess you will have to ask her that, Myka."

Myka feels compelled to acknowledge Helena's earlier restraint, "Thank you....back there...for not..."

"For not what? Grabbing that woman by the scruff of the neck, demanding answers?" Helena's tone isn't angry, just resigned, with a hint of false amusement, "I trust you to do what you do, Myka, I think I owe you that," she looks beyond her then, "I take it we need to follow?" 

Myka nods, "We do," and they get back on the motorcycle without another word, though Myka hopes that the tightness with which she clutches Helena's waist conveys the emotion that's pounding through her veins.

\---

Over an hour later Myka is in the restroom at the hospital where both Pete and their assailant are being treated. Myka herself now has a bandage around her sprained wrist, medication dulling the pain that reared its head once the adrenaline had subsided. She splashes water on her face and wipes the back of her neck with a paper towel, as she avoids looking at herself in the mirror - she doesn't need confirmation of how rough she must appear. When she exits the room and walks back up the corridor she sees Captain Frederic stood talking with Helena by the waiting area. They appear to be quite familiar and she recalls that first conversation with the Captain and Pete before she even knew who H.G.Wells was. Helena looks up and when she sees Myka she smiles tentatively, a hand lifting up to tuck a stray lock behind her ear.

Captain Frederic sits with them and, seemingly unconcerned at Helena's presence, fills Myka in on what had transpired back at Spurgeon Field once they had set off in pursuit of their suspect. Todd Nolan has been ensconced in a safe house, watched over by trusted officers from a neighbouring force as a precaution. Steve came to the hospital with Pete but has since returned to his motel, having arranged to hand over to Captain Frederic the Claudia's evidence of their pursuit and courting of Nolan. Pete had received a minor leg wound, but it required surgery to repair some damage so he was out cold in recovery. Their biker friend was also surgery with a broken ankle, she had luckily escaped more serious damage, aside from heavy bruising and probably a very sore back. 

Myka insisted that she wanted to stay until their suspect woke, but Captain Frederic was adamant that Myka was to go home and come back to work refreshed in the morning. 

"I have two trusted officers on their way to guard the suspect," she said, then stood, expecting no further argument. Myka stood but Helena remained seated, and the Captain looked down at her.

"Ms Wells, you and your colleagues have provided great assistance, thank you." She paused, "I trust you understand that we will handle matters from here."

"I understand perfectly," Helena waves a dismissive hand, and the Captain almost, almost smiles, Myka is sure of it.

"Goodnight Ms Wells, Detective Bering." 

With that, the Captain was gone, and Myka blew out the breath she'd been holding as she watched them. Helena's face appeared conflicted, but then she saw Myka looking at her and smirked, shrugged and then looked down as if her hands were the most interesting thing in the room. Myka sat back down, the small plastic seats forcing their legs to press lightly together, and Myka isn't sure what to say so she plays with her bandage.

Suddenly, Helena stills Myka's unbandaged hand as it pulled at a thread, "I don't want to be alone tonight," she said rapidly, as if she had built up the courage and wished to use it before it failed her. "I'm not expecting or asking anything of you except company, maybe a couch for the night?"

"I think I owe you that," Myka echoes Helena's words from earlier, "A thrilling bike ride, in return for company, and a couch for the night."

"Thrilling?" Helena says with a teasing expression.

"Ok, and terrifying," Myka laughs, then she sees two police officers in uniform exit the lift at the end of the corridor, and it's their cue to follow Captain Frederic's advice.

At Myka's apartment, the first thing she does is pull two ice cold beers from the fridge, and Helena takes one gladly. While Helena pulls off her boots and jacket, Myka busies herself by retrieving a blanket and pillow which she drops on the sofa alongside a now seated Helena. 

Helena eyes the bedding, and takes a swig from her bottle before setting it carefully down on the coffee table. She pulls her legs up onto the sofa, turning to face Myka who has deliberately seated herself at the opposite end, hugging her knees, the beer dangling from her hand.

"It's what you asked for, Helena," Myka says, patting the pillow, and Helena grabs her own beer again and raises it in salute.

"To better communication, then," she smirks.

Myka hums, tilts her head and pulls her knees in tighter to her chest, "We probably have a lot to talk about."

Helena nods, sighs, "Such as how my visit to a certain Roadside Diner late this afternoon proved quite fruitful."

"What?!" Myka sits up, her knees flopping to the sides so that she now sits cross legged, mirroring Helena. 

"I paid a visit to my lovely friend Sarah, turns out she was not as unsuspecting as I'd thought." 

"You visited a possible witness, Helena, that could..."

Helena laughed, "You seem to forget, darling, that I am innocent. She is also the sister of a bounty target I had been pursuing - I had legitimate reasons for being there..."

"So, tell me then," Myka says, exasperated.

Helena smiles in triumph, "On the Thursday - Sarah saw a woman picking up a receipt from my table, minutes after I'd left, and nosey parker that she is...and with her interest in me," Helena doesn't break eye contact with Myka who feels herself blush, "Sarah approached her and this woman with, and I quote, 'dirty blonde hair and attitude', revealed to Sarah the true reason I was there - to hunt down her brother." 

Helena drops her head, looks up, "I didn't make the connection until we saw her tonight, but it makes sense, that someone who knew Marcus Diamond was central to this mess."

"And not just her, I'll wager" Myka mutters, but doesn't expand because Sykes and McPherson are not topics she wants to explore with Helena now. "So, when I interviewed her, Sarah didn't tell me this because..?" Myka asks, already calculating the likely answer.

Helena offers up a rueful expression, she's clearly noticed Myka's diversion, but takes the bait anyway. "To inconvenience me I'm sure...and therefore help her brother out. She believed what this woman told her. That she was internal affairs investigating unscrupulous bounty hunters and police - and that should any other members of law enforcement enquire after me..."

Myka says, "...not to mention the intrepid IA agent. Yet Sarah was so forthcoming this afternoon?" 

Helena smiles again, "Guilt...it gets to us all. Plus I promised I would leave her brother well alone." 

"I bet you didn't say you have perfectly capable colleagues in town, did you?" Myka says with a smile of her own, 

Helena shakes her head, but a slight frown creases her brow, "When I checked in with Claudia and heard what was happening, I couldn't just sit on my hands. Myka, what possessed you to agree to that boy's silly wild goose chase...I'll admit I'm a risk taker, but you?"

"Honestly Helena, desperation, and fatigue," Myka says, and she's not unwilling to admit that there were too many variables for it to be foolproof. "She _knew_ where to find us. We got lucky in the end, it could have gone very wrong."

"It could have gone wrong, yes" Helena says softly, "which is why I couldn't stay away. Steve...and you..."

"But it didn't, and thanks to you we have our suspect in custody."

Myka realises that while they've been talking she has unconsciously shifted and is now in the middle of the couch. Helena for her part, is leaning closer, elbows resting on her knees, and a slow sly smile now spreads across her face. They sit, like that, smiling at each other, until Myka feels a sudden rush of air break up from her lungs and into a huge yawn. She flings her hands across her mouth, mortified.

"Am I boring you darling?" Helena chuckles, and she takes the hand Myka still holds splayed by her lips, and pulls. Helena uncurls her legs and stretches them along the couch, encouraging Myka to do the same until they are laying together. Myka breathes in Helena's scent as she rests her head against a warm shoulder, and feels an arm drape loosely across her back. 

"I have a bed, I should leave you to sleep," Myka tries to will her exhausted limbs to move but feels that arm hold her tighter.

"Just lay awhile, it feels good," Helena says quietly, and Myka can't disagree with that.

"I do take risks, by the way. Sometimes they pay off," she pointedly looks at Helena, and pokes her ribs gently before dropping her head back onto a warm shoulder.

They are like that for a few minutes, and already Myka feels her eyelids drooping, and though she's aware of Helena now talking quietly, the words drift over her too tired mind.

_"Myka, there's something I think I should tell you..."_

\---

When Myka wakes she finds herself alone, wrapped up in a blanket cocoon, but as her eyes focus she sees Helena sat across from her, fully dressed and, it seems, eager to go.

"The sleeper awakes," she says, and softly, "Finally. I'm sorry, I have to go Myka."

Myka pushes herself up into a seated position, "You should've woken me..."

"What, earlier than 6:30?" she chuckles, "Besides, I was enjoying watching you while I had breakfast - I hope you don't mind?" 

She picks up and wiggles the empty bowl and spoon that had been sat on the arm of the chair, and takes it into Myka's kitchen. Myka is still rousing, but is struck by the familiarity Helena is displaying - they could almost be back in Rocky National Park. Almost.

"I think, perhaps, you will be more open to accepting this from me now," Helena peels off a post-it from the magnetic pad she has taken from the fridge, and sticks it to Myka's phone on the coffee table. It's a mobile number, and Myka allows herself an inward smile. 

"Well then," she pauses, "I know you won't be able to divulge particular details to mere civilians, but if you could let me, or Steve, know that your investigation is progressing...." 

Myka chuckles softly, shaking her head. "Thank you, Helena" she says, touching the note.

Helena hovers, undecided, then quickly places a brief kiss to Myka's temple before taking her leave. As the door to her apartment closes, Myka lets her head fall backwards as she stares at the ceiling, wondering if she will ever not feel like she is on the edge of something amazing or something frightening when Helena is around. 

\--- 

Todd Nolan looks even more inconsequential this morning, sat on a bench at the kitchen table in the Denver safe house he was taken to the previous night. He's pale, skinny, and his floppy brown hair, round glasses and plaid shirt give him the air of a student just stepped off campus. Which, Myka surmises, he was when he became embroiled the the corporate fraud case he was due to testify in - before ending up on the run. It's mid-morning, and Myka is there with her Captain, and ADA St Clair. Pete is being discharged from the hospital at lunchtime, and she received a text from him right before they arrived in Denver, saying he would wait there for her. Their female suspect has apparently regained consciousness and Pete wants to stick around until they get to question her.

Rebecca St Clair introduces herself to Nolan, then gestures to Myka and her boss, "Todd, this is Captain Frederic from the CSPD, and Detective Myka Bering who I believe you have met already."

He nods, and glances up at Myka warily, remembering her glare the night before. Myka steps forward and opens the file she has placed on the table between them, pushes a CCTV image forward.

"The ADA here is going to speak with you about the case you were due to testify in, and the consequences of escaping, Todd," Myka says, "but first we need your help with this."

He pushes his glasses up his nose, "You know I didn't intend to escape," he says shakily, fingers touching the photograph, "I panicked, I was scared and...I made a mistake."

Rebecca makes a sympathetic noise, "And we will take all that into account Todd, so please, don't be scared to help us out now," she glances at Captain Frederic, "Irene here is one of the very best, and Myka - well, you've seen her in action..." she smiles reassuringly and he seems to relax a little.

"I'd never met him before, Diamond," he clarifies, "and at first, in the back of that van he ignored me, but then when the crash happened...we both ended up on the floor, and it was like he had to get all these words out at once."

"He was definitely surprised?" Myka asks

'Yeah, but later, I realised it was just sooner than he thought," Todd says.

"Tell us what you remember from that point onwards - exactly," Captain Frederic says, and he does. 

Myka, listening intently, finally feels like the pieces are starting to move into place, that the end game will come soon. Marcus Diamond, it seems, hadn't been expecting it - not then anyhow.  
Todd recounted how when the prison van came to a standstill he felt Diamond pushing himself up from the floor, before flipping him over awkwardly with his hands in cuffs.

"He looked dazed, he was rambling but he looked me straight in the eyes, said he was going to give me some advice and information - I was gonna have to be his second insurance policy he said," Todd grimaces, "I have the worst luck..."

After a few moments the Captain prompts, "Go on, Mr Nolan."

"He said, 'Just in case this isn't what I think it is, you need to remember - downtown Denver'"

"Downtown Denver?" Frederic squints at him, "That's all?"

Todd shrugs, "He just said that here was something valuable there, and someone would work it out - especially if he turned up dead."

"Ok, Mr Nolan," she continues evenly, fixing him with her stare, "Now. Last night you dragged my Detectives around on a bit of a trail because you feared just walking up to a police station, yes?"

"I'm sorry about that," he looks at Myka, "Is your partner ok?"

"He'll live, yeah," she says, "But Todd, someone found us anyway..."

"It was her, I know it was." 

Captain Frederic's head twitches, "Explain."

"Right before the doors opened, he pushed me down to the floor and hissed in my ear," Todd's eyes close briefly and when he opens them again he pinches at the corners with a finger and thumb. "He hissed in my ear 'Play dead if you know what's good for you, and the cops, don't trust them with that information I gave you - I know of at least two still working in the Springs who are on the take'. Then he patted me on the back hard. I shut my eyes and I heard the van doors open."

Rebecca St Clair has stood up and retrieved a soda from the fridge, she places it in front of him and he gratefully pulls the ring and takes a drink. Watching him, Myka feels her own mouth go dry, she's been stood with her mouth barely parted, listening to Todd's account. There was, is, an undercurrent of fear in his voice. 

Todd looks at them all in turn, "I was so scared, but he knew her. I could hear them and I almost lifted my head but something inside warned me not to." He takes another drink, and Myka goes to the fridge and gets herself a can. 

"It was woman's voice, she said his name, and Diamond said, 'Sal? Change of plan?' and she just said yes, they should get out of there," he pauses, "then she must've pointed at me or something, because she asked did they need to worry about the body in the van and Diamond said 'no, he's out for the count'."

"Sal? You are sure?" the Captain says, and shares a pointed look with Rebecca St Clair.

He's positive, and Myka wants to ask, _what does this mean?_ , but Todd is already speaking again clearly buoyed now by the calm confidence of the three women here in this house with him.

"Once or twice, I thought I saw her...while I was in hiding," he said, "I was almost ready to come in straight away until I saw the news that he was...dead. A few times this week, I was convinced she was looking for me."

"Where have you been?" Myka asks out of curiosity.

"Mostly, in an abandoned electrical goods store," he says, with a small smile, "It's amazing what people leave in places like that, and what I can tap into."

"Mmm, Claudia said you had initiative," Myka says

His eyes spark a little, "Claudia? 'The Caretaker'? Thank her for me please" 

Myka kicks herself for revealing Claudia's name, but it's done now, "Yeah. I will."

They go over a few more details, and Todd will remain there for a couple of days while the wheels turn. Myka is glad that Captain Frederic has taken precautions over Todd's safety, because if Walter Sykes is pulling some police strings, this could be the perfect opportunity to bring him to book. There is also the little matter of the biker, now conscious - and how willing _she_ will be to confess and share what she knows remains to be seen.


	11. The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bedside interrogation, and a nighttime knock at Myka's door.

When she sees Pete stood outside the hospital, tucking into a tray of chocolate waffles at a street stand, Myka feels a rush of emotion. It's relief and, not that she would admit it to him, a hint of affection. She sidles up to him, lightly pushes his arm with her fist.

"Hey Lattimer, how's the leg?" 

He flexes his right leg, "It won't cramp my style," he winks with a hint of a grimace.

"Yeah well, you don't need to convince me, the Captain was just behind me in a car with St Clair, so game face on Pete," she says and tugs his arm to head back into the hospital. 

Before she and Pete can enter the room guarded by two uniforms, Captain Frederic insists that she and the Assistant DA go in alone. After a few minutes they come back out and draw the two detectives down the corridor. Before they speak, Myka voices a thought she has been chewing over since they spoke with Todd,

"You know who she is don't you?"

Captain Frederic purses her lips, and adjusts her dark framed glasses. "That is correct, Detective, we had to confirm it." 

Rebecca St Clair says, "She is a former detective, her name is Sally Stukowski."

"An ex cop," Pete says, "When?"

Frederic keeps her voice discreet as ever, "She was a officer in the patrol division under my predecessor. Unfortunately her record was not exemplary and she was given the opportunity to resign," she looks at Myka thoughtfully, "In fact, your father may remember it, it was around the time he retired before running for office."

"What the Captain is trying to politely say," Rebecca interjects, "Is that Stukowski was on the take, there were plenty of stories but nothing stuck, it was always assumed there were more officers but she was tight lipped then, too." 

"Helena said she recognised her," Myka says, and Rebecca throws a questioning look her way. "She didn't know her then - but this Sally was with Marcus Diamond the day Helena and Steve apprehended him." 

"Ok, that's interesting, Diamond.." Rebecca says, "it links her to Sykes back then."

"Actually Ms Wells mentioned this to me last night, although at the time I also hadn't known who we were dealing with." The Captain says this while Myka briefly wonders what else they have talked about, she sometimes forgets that their boss new Helena.

Pete has remained quiet for a while, but now he cuts to the chase, "So, is she ready to co-operate?" he asks.

Myka twists a corner of her mouth. skeptically, "Huh, with any luck. Pete, you weren't there earlier - Diamond told Todd he had hidden something of value - we think it's his 'insurance'"

"We've speculated that Diamond may have hidden whatever he stole from McPherson's safe deposit box, during the robbery." Rebecca says.

" _The_ robbery," Pete says, "Does H.G. know about this?" 

"Not about what Todd has told us, no," Myka says, and she is concerned by what this new revelation, if correct, will mean for Helena. Helena, who has seemingly decided to trust in Myka and her colleagues to bring a resolution to events. Myka has an urge to call the number Helena left, to talk about normal things - not the past, not criminals and corruption - but first, duty calls.

Sally Stukowski is sat up in bed, one arm handcuffed to a side rail, she has a tray on her lap and she's eating a bowl of pasta. When she sees the four of them enter she sneers, full of bravado.

"Back so soon?" She sing songs in her unmetered southern drawl, "With the delightful Detectives Bering and Lattimer in tow I see. Where's your girlfriend?"

She eyes Myka brazenly, far too confident and revealing of the knowledge she has. Myka sees Pete clench his jaw, and she only hopes that her own features don't betray her dismay at the clear implication that this woman most likely spied on them. Captain Frederic clears her throat, standing at the foot of the bed, while they hang back, and Rebecca St Clair stands to the right of the Captain. 

"Ms Stukowski" she says, "My delightful detectives, as you so put it, will shortly be following up on the fake ID found on your person by the medical staff. Is there anything you wish to say 'Miss Vernon', before they do?" 

"Silly me, I need to find better hiding places, obviously," she scoffs, her accent becoming more pronounced, almost comical, but the toss of her head indicates she's irritated, and she shovels another forkful of pasta into her mouth.

"You may start by telling us who you are working for?" 

She chews, swallows, "Who says I am working _for_ anyone, though I'm sure you will come up with your own ideas." She rattles the cuff on her left wrist, "Not sure why I am cuffed, either." 

Rebecca laughs softly, "Sally, don't play coy it doesn't suit you," she takes a few steps around the bed. "Shooting a police officer, for one," she inclines her head to indicate Pete, and Sally smiles sweetly at him. 

"The abduction and murder of Marcus Diamond, for another," Captain Frederic says quietly, forcefully. 

Sally Stukowski puts the fork down, pushes the bowl away from herself. "That is a very serious charge, I hope you have evidence." 

To Myka's surprise, the ADA bluffs, because in truth, they don't yet have the type of hard, irrefutable, physical evidence that juries love.

"Oh but we do," Rebecca says, and her calm, assuredness quietens Sally for a moment before she is throwing back denials and bravado again. 

This back and forth continues for a few minutes, and Myka senses that Sally Stukowski is loyal to whoever she is working with, but put in a tight pinch she will protect herself. She resigned from her position on the force, despite there not being enough evidence against her. In one act she took the heat off any other officers she would have implicated through further association, she must have received assurances, and compensation, in return. 

Captain Frederic joins in, "The Assistant DA here believes you abducted Marcus Diamond. We know that you were 'close' to him shall we say, when he was on the run four years ago."

Her eyes narrow, and she tilts her head to look at Myka, "Don't believe everything Wells tells you, Detective Bering"

Myka is tired of the sly remarks, but Stukowski reveals yet herself more with her snark, and it triggers a memory from the previous night. Sally Stukowski had held a gun to her, had chosen not to use it. Myka's annoyance makes her step forward suddenly no matter that the Captain is mid flow. 

"Last night, you could have quite easily shot me, but you didn't, why is that?" she asks. 

Sally mutters, so that it's barely a sound, but Myka thinks she hears, "If it were up to me..." 

"What does that even mean?" Myka feels uneasy, and knows her voice has upped an octave when Captain Frederic says her name and asks her to step back. Sally smirks at Myka, but the Captain ignores this exchange for the moment and presses on with her train of thought. 

"You were close, so if you did abduct him, I'm not convinced it was with the intention to murder him," she pauses, "unlike ADA St Clair here." 

They let the words sink in, abduction with intent to kill is a capital offence in the State of Colorado, as Stukowski will have been well aware at the time. The Captain is offering her the chance to tell her side, but Sally for her part has gone very still, her eyes have taken on a slightly wild, but calculating look. Myka has a hunch and she steps forward again, looking apologetically at the Captain and ADA, silently asking for the ok to continue applying pressure. Because she is confident in Myka's skills as a detective, the Captain subtly nods her head in acquiescence, appearing willing to disregard her lapse of professionalism. 

"Sally, I can call you that can't I? Seeing as you are so familiar with us," Myka begins, taking ownership of the earlier jibe, and earning a scowl. "You know, last night put a few things into place for us - we weren't sure why Marcus would be a target, once we realised it wasn't actually an escape." 

She steps forward again so that she is right alongside Sally, "You _were_ acquainted, and it may have been purely physical. Still. He is dead by your hand."

Sally's eyes flick to Myka, and she recognises a fleeting regret in their shine. So she bends down and very quietly says, "You should know, _we_ have the information _you_ were so desperate to obtain. Whatever you did to him, it was for nothing." 

Myka straightens, and Sally's face hardens, and she seems to throw off any pretence of innocence, "That little rat in the van had something to say then?"

Myka ignores the reference to Todd, not wishing to confirm his co-operation too soon and instead reveals a different snippet of truth. 

"You seem overly concerned with Helena Wells, why is that? Why did you seek to frame her with a poorly obtained and now debunked bit of evidence, and your whole appearance, the bike?"

Stukowski sneers but clamps her mouth shut, realising she is being backed into a corner as her guilt unravels.

"The window of opportunity for a mutually beneficial chat with the Assistant DA here is pretty slim," Myka smiles nonchalantly, and shoves her hands in the back pockets of her pants.

Almost immediately Rebecca says, "Myself and the Captain have a meeting to attend, and the Detectives here have information to follow up on," they both turn to the door, Myka and Pete following closely. 

"Finish your lunch, Sally, and we'll be back shortly," The Captain says with her usual calm authority. 

Outside the room, Captain Frederic says, "I think your instincts are correct Myka - letting her brood on the weight of what she's done, plus the failure to meet her objectives - that may just be the push she needs to save herself, so to speak." 

Rebecca is typing into her phone now, "I'm pulling up the files on Aquino too. Stukowski was an officer around the same period. If she has any information on his activities, that could be a bargaining chip."

Pete clearly itching to know, voices a thought, "You haven't filled me in on the detail - your chat with Dungeon Master Todd..." He says, and as Myka recounts the conversation with Nolan, Pete's face scrunches up - he's had an idea, and is ruminating on it before speaking. 

"Detective Lattimer, you have a thought?" Frederic says impatiently.

He addresses Myka, "You said 'Downtown Denver' - those were Nolan's exact words?" 

"Diamond's exact words to Nolan," she says, feeling the thrill of an imminent revelation, "You know what it means don't you?" 

His face breaks slowly into a smile, "A few years ago I helped an old pal move and we didn't just move from one apartment to another, we had to collect furniture from a storage unit, from Downtown Denver." His smile is wider now and Myka feels her own growing though she doesn't know why, so she shrugs, mouthing an _'and?'_ , when he fails to explain. 

" _Downtown Denver_ is the name of a company," he reveals, "They offer storage facilities and high security safety boxes."

Her smile falters, and returns full force, "You're a genius, Pete."

He looks a little too smug, but then five seconds later they turn to each other in unison, "The key..."

Both their Captain and the ADA are looking curiously at them, and Pete is the one to remind them, "There was a key amongst Marcus Diamond's belongings at the prison."

Myka knew it wasn't so easy as just turning up at the storage facility and asking to enter, they'd need a warrant, as many prided themselves on maintaining the security and privacy of their customers as far as possible. It was standard policy to require the law to go through formal process to gain access, which Rebecca St Clair confirmed - and this late on a Friday she believed no suitably amenable judge would be free. Over the weekend, many a judge would be on a golf course, having family time or even taking a break in Vegas. 

"I know the habits of one or two," Rebecca said to them, "I will track one down asap and fingers crossed you will have your access. We shall see what Mr Diamond has kept hidden for a rainy day."

Captain Frederic looked at them all, "We are still on a strictly need to know footing with this, yes?"

"Of course," both she and Pete say in unison, but Myka is unsure why she felt the need to remind them of that.

\----

Myka feels deflated that following real progress they now have to play another waiting game. When Pete drops her off at her apartment, she opens a bottle of beer, runs a bath and drops herself down into hot soapy water. She falls asleep on the bed, because the next thing she is aware of, it's dark outside and she is waking in her robe to the sound of the buzzer to her apartment. She ambles to the door, retying the robe as she walks, and looks through the peephole. It's Helena, looking tired but stunning in the muted light of the corridor. 

"Hello," she smiles as she opens the door, and Helena smiles back, but doesn't move to enter, 

"Am I welcome?"

Myka opens the door wider in answer, but asks, "Why wouldn't you be?"

Helena shrugs but steps over the threshold, brushing past Myka as she does. Myka takes a deep breath, closes the door and crosses the room to her bedroom, while Helena hovers between the living area and kitchen seemingly unsure of her place.

"Why don't you grab a drink, get me one too," she says, pointing at the fridge, "I'll just change."

Returning, dressed in fitted sweatpants and tank top, Myka takes a seat on the couch, picking up the beer Helena has left her on the table.

"Slight case of déjà vu, wouldn't you say?" The corners of Helena's mouth turn upward, fighting a wider smile. 

Myka raises her bottle in salute, and offers a crooked grin of her own, "There always seems to be, with us,"

"Mmmm, indeed" 

Myka considers for a moment just taking the initiative, giving in to the want that simmers under the surface whenever she and Helena are close to each other, but there are questions hanging between them again. 

"Sooo, what took you away so early this morning, a new bail jumper to chase?" she asks, and Helena tenses slightly, picks at the label on her bottle and takes a drink before answering.

"I've wanted to speak with you about that, it's...delicate," she says.

This makes Myka sit up and lean forward, but she waits for Helena to continue. 

"At the hospital last night, your Captain asked if Steve and I would do some off the books work," she looks apologetic, "I wasn't happy about her approaching me, and that we weren't to tell you or Pete, or anyone." 

"She trusts you" Myka says.

"It appears so, now that I am in the clear. But also, she trusts Rebecca St Clair's opinion of me," Helena draws her brows together, "Despite my past. Rather like someone else I know."

"Though, Helena, you are telling _me_ now," Myka says with a raised brow.

"I don't see why you and Pete shouldn't know." She's indignant on their behalf and it's strangely appealing. She appears to make a decision, and takes a breath before speaking, "She asked us to follow some people from your Precinct, Myka."

"Officers?" 

"Your Captain clearly has her suspicions, and I think this case has somehow solidified that," she tucks a stray lock of hair behind an ear, "She doesn't want you both involved, she doesn't want them getting even a hint of being under suspicion."

Myka understands, "We'd be spying on our own, however you look at it."

She must hold a question in her gaze, because Helena says, "I can't tell you who, Myka, I'm sorry."

Myka nods, and makes a decision of her own. "The woman, we questioned her, but we didn't need her to tell us her name," Myka says quietly, "Frederic and St Clair knew her - she's an ex-cop, Helena."

Helena's eyes close for a moment, her hand tightens around the beer bottle and her other curls into a fist before opening wide again. 

"I don't suppose you can tell me anything else about your little chat with her?" she asks, but before Myka can respond she helps her out, "No, I'm sorry, forget I said that. I should let you do your job. I trust you to do your job." 

Helena grimaces, runs a hand through her hair, it's clearly difficult for her to say that. This is the second time Helena has said she trusts her, and Myka wants to be honest with her, so she is.

"Helena, I want to tell you," she scoots closer, grabs the hand that is now clinging to the back of the couch, squeezes, "but we are very close to a major breakthrough, and I want to have the whole picture." 

"You don't have to justify keeping confidential information from me, Myka," her laugh is wistful, "It's probably for the best. If what Steve and I are doing helps, I shall have to be content with that."

"What changed? You seem more at ease," Myka suddenly blurts out, because this Helena, more reasonable, less demanding of answers, is so different to the one she encountered on that first day with Pete. 

Helena avoids her gaze, looks at their hands still joined on the back of the couch, "I realised...well, Steve and Arthur helped me realise, that I would end up in a very dark place again if I let myself become obsessed with this resurgence of the past." 

She squeezes Myka's hand gently, "That night, when Claudia was in the hospital, the things you told me - I can _feel_ there are going to be more truths emerging - but the fact remains..." 

The fact remains, Christina is gone, Myka realises, "I know, Helena," she says quietly and Helena offers a slight nod and grateful half smile. 

"And _he_ is gone too, now." Looking up guiltily, Helena firms her mouth, "I wanted him to rot forever, but whatever he was killed for, I can't let that eat at me when..." she falls silent, and after a minute Myka tugs at her hand.

"When?" 

Helena looks at their hands again, and when her gaze returns to Myka's eyes, Myka is struck by their intensity, their hope. "Not when, for the first time in years, I can see the possibility of a future with something far far better than loneliness, than pain, than merely existing."

There it is again, that weight of responsibility Myka has felt before with Helena, only this time it settles like a blanket, it's warm and welcome. She can't comprehend how in such a short space of time, they have become so close.

"Helena..." she breathes, and she feels a shift in the air, it's like they are back in that kitchen, like a switch has been flipped.

Helena's hand moves the few inches to Myka's wrist and tightens around it, parted lips and a tilt of her head asks the question, and Myka responds by surging forward. The palm of her still bandaged hand reaches for and pushes Helena gently back by her collarbone, and she falls with a surprised gasp against the arm of the couch. Myka hovers, a hand now either side of Helena's head and her curls drop down around their faces, inches apart.

"Detective Bering..." Helena's hands have found purchase on Myka's hips, gripping firmly, preventing her from pushing down, and Myka suppresses a groan.

Helena lifts her head up to whisper in her ear, "Are you sure of this, sure of me?" Her need for reassurance stills Myka, who pushes up slightly to seek out her eyes.

"Helena, I want this, I want you," she lets out a shuddering breath, "I feel like we should wait, that this whole case means we should wait, but honestly, now..." She lets her arms bend again, taking most of her weight on her good hand, so that her lips are millimeters away from Helena's.  
"I'm done denying, I'm done waiting," she murmurs against them, and the vibration sends a tingle down her spine. 

Helena's fingers dig into her hips, this time to pull them back down into her own with a jolt, as she simultaneously pushes up into a hot open mouthed kiss that has Myka reeling. She feels Helena's hands moving already to the waistband of her joggers, skirting slowly around the dip at the small of her back before pushing under and down, so her buttocks are exposed and the pressure of the waistband sits at the top of her thighs. Helena drags her nails back up skin, from firm thighs along and under Myka's tank to the top of her spine; and when Myka breaks their kiss to hiss in pleasure, Helena drags them back down so Myka's neck arches of it's own volition, exposed to Helena's eager mouth. 

Pressing down to gain more friction, Myka slides her arm under Helena, pulling her up tight at the waist as she slides her own leg between Helena's, earning a nip of teeth and a whimper against the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Helena's fingers have found the edge of her pants again and Myka lifts briefly so they end up pooled around her knees. She is bare against the dark jeans that sit just at the edge of Helena's hip bone, and it's heaven and hell all at once. 

"Yours." She gasps out a second ragged breath, "Take. Yours. Off."

Helena chuckles wantonly as she kisses her way along Myka's jawline, but she does as asked, making quick work of the zipper but grabbing Myka's spare hand and placing it against a belt loop.

"Help me darling," she whispers, and together they shed jeans and sweatpants, leaving tangled, naked legs, and wet heat moving to a remembered rhythm. 

It's quick and intense, and when Myka feels her insides reaching, stretching towards that sweet spot of no return, she lifts her head from the kiss bruised crook of Helena's neck to find dark eyes looking back at her. And Myka knows that Helena is in that same place, so she pushes harder, pulls Helena up against her thigh harder still as nails create indents in her shoulders and back. Helena's eyes roll, her lashes flutter up then closed and a long, low moan escapes her lips; and Myka hears herself cry out an expletive, before she drops over and up into ecstasy. When they lay, bodies twitching with the lingering ripples of release, skin tingling with cooling perspiration, Myka wonders how they held out for so long. Because her body has remembered how it craved Helena Wells, and her thumping heart is telling her something else entirely. 

She is broken from her realisation by the gentle murmur of Helena's voice in her ear, "I do like this couch, however, would it be presumptuous of me to suggest we move to your bed?"

"It would be presumptuous," Myka teases, "But in this case I don't mind presumptuous. Whether my legs are able to make the journey is another matter," she laughs freely and Helena turns her head up to capture her lips in a fervent kiss.

Pulling away, whispering against those lips, Helena says, "I do like that sound." 

Myka smiles, suddenly shy, and hides in Helena's hair where it has gathered to one side of her neck. She mumbles into pale, yet hot, skin, "You make me feel things Helena, that I've not felt for a long time."

Helena shifts so that she can kiss her forehead, "The feeling is mutual, Myka. As I said, I can see...possibilities, with you." Her eyes turn mischievous then, and she squeezes the top of Myka's leg then playfully slaps a butt cheek, "Now are those legs in working order yet?" 

Myka laughs again, and Helena's wicked grin at the sound confirms that the night is far from over. 

\---

They sleep together, wake up together, shower, and eat breakfast sat side by side in the kitchen, Helena wearing an old swim team sweatshirt of Myka's. They are in her apartment, in her space, and it feels good, very good. They'd gone to bed eventually, and by the time exhaustion had hit, Myka had re-discovered the sweet spots that made Helena's skin raise in anticipation. They had talked in whispers on all manner of things, and uttered words of endearment and promise in the dead of night.

Reality kicked in of course when Steve rang Helena, and Myka watched one half of the conversation from where she was stood by the fridge, barely listening but noticing Helena's furrowed brow as she glanced in Myka's direction. 

"Duty calls," she shrugged apologetically as she hung up, receiving a kiss from Myka who was walking past and into the living room to tidy their glasses from the night before.

"Everything ok?" Myka says, trying to keep her tone light, to not display any lingering insecurity.

Helena stands, and pulls Myka to her as she moves to step past once more, her full hands hang awkwardly in between them. 

"Yes. But even if everything isn't ok, it will be." Helena's hands hold her shoulders, and she leans in to place a kiss at the corner of Myka's mouth, "Be safe, and I will speak to you later." 

Myka kisses her back, nods briefly, "You too."

When Helena is gone, Myka dresses and heads to the station, where Pete is at his desk already. He eyes her curiously, and she feels like a beacon in the night, for all the world to see. 

"I beat you in, either you blew a tyre or you got lucky last night!" he teases, not being serious at all; but he spots the furious blush creeping into her cheeks and down her neck so he raises his brow in question.

"Woah...you did, you got lucky, didn't you?" 

She slumps into her chair, rubbing the back of her neck and avoiding his laughing eyes, "None of your business, Lattimer. Zip it!" she warns, and promptly opens the file in front of her, taking great interest in the contents. 

"Come on, partner, who's the lucky g..." his eyes widen, "Oh, oh..."

She shoots him a death glare and he clamps his mouth shut, and remains quiet for a few minutes, until she hears him clear his throat. She sighs, closes the file and looks at him. 

"Get it over with, Pete."

He curbs the smile on his face, "Just to say, I hope it works out for you, that's all," and when he sees her face soften, he remarks, "I mean, I know I've suggested you should be careful, but that was before." He stops, checks himself, then flashes a grin, "Lord knows you've waited long enough!" before jumping up from his chair to avoid the swipe of her palm as she leans across the desk to clip him around the ear. 

"So, have you found anything useful or have you just been sampling the new snack machine offerings?" she gestures at the packets strewn about his desk. 

Pete slides a piece of torn off note paper across the desk, and she squints at his scrawl. It's the names of three hotels, one in Denver, the other two in Colorado Springs. Now that they have her, and her alias, Sally Stukowski's whereabouts throughout this whole incident have become a bit clearer. Under the name Vernon, she has been checked in at these same hotels since a few weeks before the prison van attack, only checking out of the Denver establishment a week ago.

"Hotel Cimarron then?" Pete asks, tapping the first name on the list - also the closest to the precinct.

Myka says, "Let's go."

On the drive over, Myka finds herself distracted by very pleasant flashbacks and the thought of Helena's number stored in her phone, despite them having parted only an hour before. The events of the past few nights have removed any doubts for Myka, with Helena's honesty about her own emotions, and Myka's acknowledgement that the physical attraction couldn't go unheeded any longer. She resists the urge to excuse herself from Pete and call her before they enter the hotel.

The manager grumbles, but leads them up to the room 'Miss Vernon' is staying in. It's a mid range hotel, a decent sized room, pretty standard and surprisingly neat. Sally Stukowski clearly lived out of her bag, no clothes were hanging up, and minimal toiletries adorned the bathroom shelf. Snapping gloves on, then lifting the lone bag up onto the bed, Myka starts to carefully pull out the contents while Pete explores the bathroom and checks all the drawers. 

Her clothing is reminiscent of Helena's - dark jeans or trousers, black and grey short and long sleeves, boots, minimal accessories. She was travelling light, no doubt she has been moving around frequently. At the base of the bag are three disposable mobiles and a bound notebook. Inside are various initials, which significantly include 'HW', alongside dates and times, plus diagrams of roads and landmarks. There are also lists of internet cafes, libraries, university campuses across Colorado, but mainly focussed on Denver and Colorado Springs. At the back of the book is a folded map of the Springs, sectioned out with noted and areas cross hatched with pencil. 

Pete emerges from the bathroom, his gloved hands holding a towel cupped around a wet zip lock bag, "Bingo! Classic hiding place - in the toilet cistern," he wrinkles his nose as he lays the towel and bag out on the floor. 

"More false identities," he says, pulling a number of drivers licences and other forms of ID from the bag, "We have Vernon, of course. Plus Tomas, and Booker."

Myka's mind tugs at a memory, and she's already pulled out her phone and calling a number, "That name, Tomas."

When she gets hold of the forensics lab, it's Liam who picks up, "Hey Detective Bering, what you got?" 

"Hi Liam, sorry, but is Abigail available?" 

"Sure thing," he says lightly, and when Abigail picks up, Myka explains the current situation before asking the question, "The name, Tomas, I recall it was in one of the reports. Remind me, Abigail." 

"Tomas was the name the lock up was rented under," Abigail says, "Cash transaction of course but that's what the records say. Nothing else turned up from it, sorry."

"Don't be, that's great. Another piece in place," Myka says. "How soon can you get here?"

Abigail is there thirty minutes later to collect the evidence - she is going to process is as a matter of urgency and them know if anything useful emerges. What they haven't yet found is anything that links Stukowski to Sykes or anyone else. 

Outside, the sky is bright and clear, and Myka pulls her shades back down from the top of her head. They are about to step into the road when a dark sedan coasting slowly from their left suddenly picks up speed and shoots across them and away, causing them both to jump with shock. One stride further and both Pete and Myka would have been hit.

"Idiot!" Pete yells after the vehicle, but Myka's attention is caught by the vehicle now coasting towards them, and she would now know that seated figure anywhere. Sure enough the rider turns to face them, while flipping her visor up to reveal a questioning frown, but does not slow or stop. In fact Helena looks ahead to where the sedan is turning a corner up ahead and accelerates, disappearing from view to leave Myka and Pete open mouthed. A minute later when they are stood on the opposite side of the road, Myka's phone rings, it's Helena. 

"Small world," Helena's voice comes through as a crackle, she sounds inquisitive but an undercurrent of new familiarity is very present.

"Who was that?" Myka asks, still a little shaken from their near miss.

"Just someone I'm following, Myka" Helena's tone is relaxed, but there is the slightest hint of exasperation, and Myka realises this may be part of the job she and Steve are doing for Captain Frederic.

Helena doesn't elaborate any further and asks her own question, "You came out of the Cimarron?" 

"Yeah, just someone we are checking out," Myka says, and she hears Helena's muffled laugh.

"Touche, Myka," she says, "But really - progress with our friend from last night?"

Myka sighs, despite understanding the reasons she feels a little peeved at Helena's easy evasion, but she concedes that Helena's hunch is correct, "She was staying here, I can say that with certainty," and she hears a grunt of realisation on the line.

"What is it?" Myka asks, and Helena in turn offers up a crumb of her own.

"It would seem that my mark was headed to the same hotel, perhaps they saw you and Pete and decided to take a detour," she says, "that, or it's quite the coincidence." 

Myka says cautiously, "Hopefully we will be in a position to talk more later. If we do catch up."

"If?" Helena's voice betrays a little uncertainty, and she hesitates before speaking again, but with conviction, "Myka, this is reaching the tipping point, I feel sure we will reach the conclusion very soon." 

"I hope you are right," Myka feels a tentative smile tugging at her lips and she seeks to retrieve their playfulness, " _When_ we catch up, Ms Wells, I shall attempt to quiz you on your day's activities." 

She fills Pete in when they are sat in the car, and he doesn't hide his disappointment.

"I just don't understand, why would the Captain keep us in the dark," he cringes, "No offence Mykes, but for her to trust a couple of bounty hunters over her own officers?" 

"I dunno, so we aren't compromised in any way?" Myka says, "We just have to trust _her_ , she's never let us down as long as I've been under her command." 

He has to agree, because if Frederic is one thing, it's protective of her good officers, and if there are bad apples in the barrel they will feel the full force of her wrath.

The other hotels that Stukowski has stayed at yield nothing more, she was clearly moving her belongings from one to the other as required. By the end of the day, Abigail has confirmed there is nothing of use on any of the mobile phones, while the sim cards with them are unused. It's a small frustration because there is progress elsewhere. The third alias 'Booker', it transpires, was used for making purchases - food, fuel, and the rental fee for the motorcycle that ended up crumpled against a barrier a few nights ago. Sally Stukowski was being backed into a corner and with the news that Rebecca St Clair had secured a judge to arrange a search warrant for the Denver storage facility the following day, it was surely only a matter of time before she decided to talk. 

At the end of the day Myka is getting ready to leave when Captain Frederic calls Pete into her office.

"Uh oh Lattimer, you been caught kicking the vending machine again?" 

He pokes his tongue out, "That was one time, one time!" he exclaims, "You get going anyway, and I'll see you tomorrow - 11am we said, yeah?"

"Yeah, see you later," she says, and once she is outside, she dials Helena's number, feeling the need to hear her voice, to know when she will next see her. 

When it goes to voicemail she self consciously leaves a short message, suggesting she is free for that catch up, and on hanging up Myka places a hand to her cheek, feeling the heat there. She is all in this now, but will still feel the blush of embarrassment every time she takes the initiative. Much later, when she receives a couple of apologetic texts from Helena - whatever she was doing was proving to be more complicated than anticipated - Myka is feeling less sure of how they left things that morning. Helena had tried to reassure with terms of endearment, but Myka can't help but talk herself into the worry that Helena is regretting the shift in their relationship. By the following morning, she is tired and irritable, having run over the past few days in her head over again. She can't shake the feeling of foreboding that looms, and wonders if she has missed something, if Helena has blurred her vision to such an extent that her usual attention to detail has failed her at a crucial moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suspect I may be back to 13 chapters not 12, with the final one as an epilogue.


	12. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, have been busy and my mind has been otherwise occupied. I think this may be the longest yet. Final installment will be up in the next day or two.

It is Sunday, and before meeting Pete later on at the precinct, Myka reluctantly decides to drop in on the family home at breakfast time having missed last week's get together. She's still in the dark about Helena's whereabouts, and it's feeding an anxiousness that won't dissipate. An hour after sending a morning text and there's also a hint of worry for her safety creeping in, so Myka messages what she hopes is an unsubtle enquiry to Steve, resolving to be patient.

Tracy, who is staying the weekend, greets her at the door with a warm hug. "Hello stranger, looking good." 

Myka looks down at her skinny jeans and dark fitted shirt, but is of the opinion that any positive effect is lost by her tired eyes and unruly hair. Tracy whispers in her ear before she pulls away, "Fire in the hole!"

Myka groans at Tracy's use of their teenage codeword. Their father is not in a good mood it seems.

"Do we know reasons?" She sighs as they walk along the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Tracy twists her mouth, "Work I think - judging by the newspapers spread out all over his desk - still full of these public land sales. So boring!"

"You should've been a detective, sis," Myka teases.

"Haa Haa!" Tracy drags her along, "Come on, share the load."

Her mother surprises her with a warm, strong hug. "We don't see you enough, Myka," she says.

"Sorry, Mom. It's been hectic at work, been pulled around a bit. Any spare time I just need to sleep..." She tries to make light of the pressures, but her mother knows the strains of police work intimately and her eyes soften slightly.

"Well, you know I'm here if you need me," she says with a hesitant smile and Myka glances at Tracy who just shrugs at their mother's affectionate overtures.

The sharp voice of Warren Bering cuts into the air, "Myka doesn't need us, Jeannie, stop coddling her."

She turns to him, and again surprises Myka with her words, "Warren, please don't take your frustrations out on our daughters, it's Sunday, let's just enjoy the time together."

He grunts, and looks at Myka, "Not working today then?" It's his way of an apology, a barbed effort to strike up the semblance of a conversation. 

"I will be later, dad," she says, and looks at her mother, "Sorry, I can only stay for breakfast, waiting on a break in a case."

"Ooh something juicy?" Tracy says with morbid fascination evident on her face.

Myka can't help but return Tracy's infectious grin, "Oh, I hope so."

Her mother is pulling a cake tin from the oven, "Well, breakfast it is, I'm not having you walking out just as I place a roast in front of you."

Afterwards, with as full a stomach as she's had in weeks, following pancakes, bacon and other indulgent foodstuffs, Myka is sharing the sofa with Tracy when her phone buzzes. It's Helena, and she jumps up from her seat under Tracy's curious gaze and goes into another room.

"Myka, sorry I've not been in touch," she sounds tired, "I checked in late last night at the same hotel as Claudia and Steve. I didn't wish to wake you."

Myka can't hide the disappointment she'd felt, despite her words, "We are both busy, Helena, don't apologise," and shean't resist fishing for information, "The job got complicated eh?"

Helena sighs, as if she'd been expecting the enquiry, "In a manner of speaking," she says, then clearly tries to inject playfulness into her tone, though it sounds a little forced to Myka's ear, "Can I come by tonight?"

Myka can't pretend at anything other than eagerness, "I'd like that," she sighs, "That is, assuming my day doesn't turn as complicated as yours clearly did."

"I sincerely hope that it doesn't," Helena sounds suddenly hesitant, "Myka, I..." but there's a noise emanating from the front of the house, and Myka can hear her father's raised voice, and her mother trying to calm him. 

Myka steps out with the phone still at her ear, joining Tracy who is also stood in the hallway, a mug of coffee in hand and a frown on her face. 

"Helena, I need to go, there's something going on with mum and dad," Myka says, and in her worry misses Helena choke out a frustrated sound.

"Myka..."

"Sorry Helena, I'll call you back," she ends the call as she and Tracy reach the scene ahead. 

Their mother is tugging at their father's arm, "Warren, must you, when we have both Myka and Tracy here."

Warren Bering is hurriedly pulling on a coat, "Jeannie, enough!" 

Myka steps forward, but her father starts, and runs a hand over the top of his head, "I'm sorry, Jeannie, but you know how busy it's been. I'll make it up to you."

Myka and Tracy look at each other in understanding, their father may have always been stern with them, but their mother seemed to have some strange power over him. It was a very rare occurrence for him to raise his voice to her, and they worked out eventually that is was simply love. They watch as she rubs his arms and steps back with a slight incline of her head.

"Very well, but let me know when you will be home, Warren," she says softly. 

He nods, and only now sees his daughters, "Duty calls," he says stiffly before heading out to leave them all stood in the hallway. 

"You ok mom?" Myka asks, but it's Tracy who goes and links with Jeannie Bering's arm and starts pulling her down the hallway.

"I think I can smell something burning!" she quips and Myka follows them, smiling at her sister's easy manner as they start to chatter about Tracy's own lack of finesse in the kitchen. 

\---

An hour later, Myka says her goodbyes and feels relieved to leave the house and head back to where she is comfortable. That is back in the car, on the job. She idly listens to the police radio as she navigates the roads into town, playing the quick fire game she and Pete often engage in - guess the location from the call sign. _505 reckless driving_ "interstate" she thinks. _10-51 drunk_ "Old Colorado", _484 petty theft_ "Airport" she guesses, mentally high fiving herself when the operator confirms she's got that one correct. 

She's startled out of her thoughts by her phone, and is thrilled to see Helena's name back on the screen as she switches to hands free. 

"Myka?" 

Myka smiles, "Hi. Helena, sorry about..."

"Myka, where are you?" Helena interrupts, and Myka notices what she didn't at first - Helena is whispering, she sounds...strained.

Myka looks for a place to pulls over but there is nowhere, "I'm headed to work, Helena, is something wrong?"

There's a noise in the background, a bell, or alarm of sorts, and Helena doesn't speak for a long moment. When she does, it chills Myka.

"Do you remember I told you I realised I needed to look forward, to a future?" she whispers, and Myka grips at the steering wheel, because Helena's tone scares her. "That's proving very difficult at this moment".

Myka injects urgency into her voice, "Helena, where are you?" 

There's a frustrated cry at the end of the line, and another long pause before Helena gasps out, "Airport"

"Colorado Springs? What's..."

Helena interjects, "No. No...Meadow Lake, Myka, my battery is low..." 

Myka quickly calculates and takes a sudden left at the junction she's arrived at, "Helena, I'm on my way, speak to me, why are you there that's a commercial airfield..." Myka stops, and something clicks. Sykes has a private jet. "Helena?!"

"I followed him, Myka, I followed him to make sure," she's rambling, but there's an undercurrent of anger, it reminds Myka of the night outside the hospital, when Claudia was attacked. "I wanted to rule out...for you, I'm sorry."

Myka's confusion intensifies, she is still ten minutes from the airfield, but Helena sounds lost and so unlike the woman from two nights ago. 

"Helena!" She snaps to get her attention, as she has to brake and swerve sharply to avoid an idiot in a pickup, "Tell me, are you following Sykes?"

There's a sharp intake of breath on the line, "No, I wasn't," Helena says flatly, then suddenly she blurts out, "Myka. Your father..." and the line cuts off, the silence deafening through the car speakers. 

"My father..." Myka pleads to the dead air, "What about my father?"

She drives on autopilot, her mind whirling around the possible implications of Helena's words, she just needs to get where she is going as soon as possible. She does ring her mom, and confirms her dad is not back from his morning meeting yet, fending off questions as she threads her way through traffic. When she sees the looming hangars of Meadow Lake Airfield in the distance, the size of it brings her procedual mind to the fore. It is a large facility, she is heading into a situation blind, she doesn't know where Helena is, or truly what is happening. She realises she needs backup, or at least to have someone on their way. She's about to punch in Pete's number when his name appears on her screen anyway and she shakes her head, recalling his boast of having uncanny vibes. 

"Pete! I was just about to call you," she exclaims, "Listen, I'm on my way to Meadow Lake, can you check is it where Sykes has a plane?"

"Myka, what's going on?" Pete sounds tense, nervous even, "You should have been at the station twenty minutes ago. What's this about Sykes?" His tone has that high pitched quality he adopts when he knows something, and Myka recognises it.

"Pete," she warns, drawing out his name, "Pete?"

"Mykes, I've been to the lock up already, Frederic had me go first thing this morning," she can hear the grimace in his voice, "Diamond had documents, records, photographs implicating a few current officers in dealings with the criminal fraternity - Sykes, Diamond himself, others."

Myka remains silent, finger nervously tapping the wheel as she draws up to the entrance to the airfield and flashes her badge at the gate. 

"Pete, one sec," she asks the guard if there is a hangar rented by Walter Sykes, and is waved through without any problems. It's only then that what Pete has said registers in her mind, "Wait - you've been to Denver already?"

"Yeah, listen, you should come to the station," he sighs, "there's stuff you need to see."

"Pete, I had a call from Helena - she's here - and Sykes has a hangar here. We got cut off," she can feel herself starting to panic, so take a deep breath to gather herself. "I think something's wrong."

She hears him in the background, muffled as if he's talking to someone, then he's back on the line. 

"Ok, sit tight, I'm on my way. 10 minutes," he says, "and Myka - wait for me. There's things you need to know." 

"What did you find?" she says, but frustratingly he has ended the call, and Myka is rapidly feeling like the day is spiraling out of her control. Cryptic messages from Helena and now Pete have left her feeling in the dark, and that is not a place she wants to be. 

Despite Pete asking her to wait, she drives through the complex which includes warehouses, offices and at the far end, huge rentable hangars. She now knows that one of them houses Walter Sykes's private plane when it is in Colorado Springs. The police radio is still on low, and as Myka slows alongside the first hangar, a voice crackles over the airwaves _415 disturbance, 10-72 possible gun involved_. Spray painted numbers on the corrugated exteriors indicate that hangar 41805 is the furthest along, closest to the runway, _Meadow Lake Airfield, civilian report of disturbance, unclear if shots fired, liaise with local security_...

"Damn!" Myka presses down on the accelerator, this can't be coincidence, she _knows_ it. 

A minute later and she's skidding to a halt outside hangar 41805, there's a moveable crane between it and the next hangar along, and she sees a man jogging between them towards her. Getting out of the car, she scans the area, it's just him, and she tucks her hand under her jacket, flips her holster and half draws her weapon. He's a worker, in jeans, heavy duty boots and a hard hat and he has a walkie talkie in his hands. 

"That was quick!" he hisses as he stumbles to a stop before her, eyeing the badge she displays at arms length. 

"Advance party, you called in a disturbance?" she says, and points to the walkie talkie, and he's nodding already. 

"Yeah, I've heard gunfire before, I'm pretty sure..." he doesn't look convinced, and Myka encourages him to speak. "There's two cars and a motorbike the other side of the hangar, it's normally just a limo dropping someone off up here." 

"Can you radio the gate?" she says and he lifts his radio ready to do so. "Good, my partner is on the way, and probably some other cops - have them let him know I'm going to assess the situation." 

He jumps into the pickup parked along the edge of the road, and as Myka steels herself to enter the hangar she hears him calling the guard she had passed all of five minutes earlier.

The huge hangar doors are painted dark grey, and they are closed, but she turns the handle of a small opening embedded into the first sliding panel. It eases open, and she steps over the metal edge and into the stale air of the gigantic space. It's dim at this end, with economy lighting emitting a soft glow at intermittent points above. Myka can see light streaming in at the far end where the main hangar door is slid open wide enough for a vehicle to enter the building. Working her way along the edge, past storage boxes and a forklift truck, she takes in the looming presence of a private jet occupying the hangar. It seems quiet, but there is a light in the elevated office area ahead, and ducking her head, she can see that steps are aligned to the jet on the far side, suggesting it is set for boarding. 

As silently as possible, Myka takes the steps up to the office area, her weapon drawn. She doesn't expect to find anyone there and as she rounds the doorway, she doesn't, but there's a chair tipped onto it's side. Scanning the office her eye is caught by a mark in an otherwise smooth white noticeboard. Moving closer, her fingers drift up to touch the mark, it's a bullet slug embedded into the surface, and it is still warm. Muttering a curse under her breath, she pulls out her mobile, she has a missed call from Pete and she pushes call back while looking down to the jet. 

Pete sounds relieved when she pick up, "Myka I'm here, the guard has directed me to hangar 41805, are you there?"

"I'm inside" she whispers, "There's definitely been a shot fired. I think whoever is here must be in the plane. Pete I think Helena..." 

Pete curses, "Sit tight, don't you dare go in there!" 

Myka knows he is right, she should wait the five minutes it will take for backup to be in place, but that five minutes could be crucial. She checks her weapon again, and takes in a deep breath. 

"Pete..."

"Myka. Don't."

"I'm sorry, I have to."

"Myka!" He's angry, but then seemingly in desperation, to stall her, he whines, "Myka your father might be there!"

"What?" 

He sighs, "Your father, Marcus was hiding evidence - it implicates your father. And Sykes." 

Suddenly, Helena's earlier cryptic ramblings make sense, or rather, Myka is forced to confront the itch at the back of her mind. Helena was following people Frederic suspected. It has lead her to Myka's father. There is no way she can not enter the jet now. 

"Pete, hurry, I'm going in right now." She ends the call, so he can't argue and is already jogging down the stairs and then taking long, light strides to the base of the moveable steps leading up to an opening in the jet.

She moves steathily up them, until at the top she stops, back against an inside partition, weapon drawn up in two hands. She strains to hear something, and Sykes's cool, calm voice is what she hears first. He feels unthreatened, in control. But Myka doesn't, when she comprehends what is being said.

"This _is_ cosy," he says, "even cosier once my pilot is here."

"Your pilot or your fixer, Walter?" it's her father, his voice scornful, "This won't make it go away, Marcus has sold us both down the river, but don't believe me."

Sykes chuckles, "Do you think you can trust what Sally says?" 

"He told her you were due for payback, admittedly under duress." Myka recognises a sly grin in her father's voice, the smugness of a secret, "And she _is_ the one who told Marcus you gave him up to _this_ one here."

Sykes grunts, and she hears shuffling, "What say you, Ms Wells?" he says, with forced joviality, "I must say, when you came accusing me of hurting your little friend, I had hoped you would pick up my hints about Mayor Bering here." He laughs mirthlessly, "What say you to another exchange?"

When she hears Helena's voice, low and pained, Myka's heart clenches, "It was a mistake then and it would be now,"

She risks a peek, hoping they are engrossed enough not to notice. The inside of the jet is laid out like a lounge, with large recliner style seating, a coffee table, a small bar. Very exclusive. She can see the back of her father's balding head, he is sat in of the seats, arms resting along the edges. Walter Sykes is stood leaning on his cane, between that seat and the one opposite. He has a pistol in his other hand, and faces the woman sat there. Helena's seat is swivelled to the left and Myka sees she is slumped, head dropped down a tad so that her hair falls forward over her face.

Sykes shuffles forward a step, "Are you sure about that? You got Marcus, now you can exact your revenge on the reason he was in that bank in the first place," he gestures towards Myka's father with the weapon. 

Helena lifts her head slightly and there's a cut across her left eyebrow, and Myka holds her breath as Helena's eyes flick up to Warren Bering, cold and hate filled. But then they flick to Sykes, the expression never leaving her face, 

"Diamond was there at your word, too, wasn't he..." her eyes close, and she whispers, "If that gun were in my hands right now...don't think I wouldn't use it." 

It's brutally honest, Helena is in her darkest place right now, and Myka schools herself for what must be done. This is going to end badly, unless she intervenes sooner rather than later. She needs to be at her dispassionate best to fix this before either of the people that she loves are hurt. Loves. She loves Helena, she knows that now, though they skirted around putting a name for what they felt only a night ago. She is putting off thinking about her father's culpability, she loves him in her way, despite how he is, and has been in the past.

Sykes moves back a few steps, putting distance between himself and Helena, as if recognising a danger. The fingers on Helena's hands twitch where they grip the ends of the armrests, and Myka leans back, checks her weapon swiftly, and swings around the partition in one smooth movement, weapon raised.

"Drop your weapon!" 

She is crisp, businesslike and she moves forward a few steps, glancing briefly to see her father's shocked face as he turns in the seat, and Helena's eyes snapped open - simultaneously full of relief and fear. 

Sykes holds his gun up, pointing directly at her, but the way he holds it is not practiced, she can tell. He has been waiting for his henchman to show, and Myka only hopes that Pete and backup have intercepted the pilot and are hot on her heels.

"Well, cosier and cosier. Detective Bering!" Sykes goes for bravado, but she sees that familiar cornered look and braces herself ready to fire. "I was just having a chat with your father, and your... _friend_ here," he leers. 

"Myka," it's her father, "Myka." his voice cracks, as if the reality of the situation is hitting him, but she doesn't move her eyes from Sykes and his right hand. 

"Drop your weapon, Sykes, it's over," she says, and takes a chance on what Pete said earlier, "It's true, Diamond has betrayed you, it's over." 

It turns out to be the wrong choice, and she will beat herself up about it later, because in high stakes situations, she usually reads people correctly. 

Walter Sykes narrows his eyes, calculating, and that look of a cornered animal returns full force. His eyes dart to the people sat, barely breathing, watching, before they dart back up. His hand twitches, and Myka's trigger finger tenses. But before either of them act, Myka's father lunges forward from his seat. He's ungainly, but he catches Sykes off guard for an instant, and Helena, who had jumped up a fraction later, shoots Myka a confused look.

"No!" Myka yells, as her father grabs at the hand holding the weapon, pushing his shoulder forward into Sykes chest so they both fall back into the seat behind, the walking cane falling to the carpeted floor. They grunt in the struggle and then the gun goes off, once. Myka strides forward, her own weapon still gripped firmly in both hands, panicked eyes trained on the two figures. 

"Wait," Helena chokes out, as she raises one arm low across Myka's path to stop her getting closer - before they have sight of the gun.

Warren Bering sudenly falls back, and slumps seated on the floor, the gun lies in his blood streaked hand. Walter Sykes groans, his eyes flickering shut, and Myka sees a crimson rosette forming on his stomach.

"Dad..." she gasps, frozen in place, because his hands are curling around the gun in his hand, as he lifts it in front of his face, staring. 

Helena drops her arm, murmurs "Myka," it's still strained but it's a nudge, and Myka stoops down in front of her him, and his eyes flicker up away from the gun in his hand. 

"Dad..." she repeats, softer, and she has never seen him like this, so unsure as he looks at her, and his eyes are full of remorse. 

He whispers, "I'm sorry, Myka," and he allows his hand to fall again, so the gun slips from his hands to the floor, "Tell your mother and sister, I'm sorry." 

Myka feels movement behind her then, more feet shuffling on carpet and then a hand touches lightly between her shoulder blades. It's Pete, he is next to her, and he picks up the gun in a gloved hand and drops it into a bag. Then he squeezes her arm, "Come on," and she stands, it's only when Warren Bering's eyes leave hers that she turns and moves to a corner, two other officers and a paramedic brushing past her. 

Helena is still stood as she was, and Myka now watches the back of her head as it dips forward, dark hair flowing forward, revealing a sliver of pale skin at her neck. Her back lifts up as she takes a deep breath, and she runs both hands through her hair, resting them just behind her ears. And she half turns, seeking out Myka. Helena is fighting to maintain a semblance of control, Myka can see it, she recognises it in herself. Dark and open, her eyes reveal conflict, and Myka can't imagine how hard this was - the final truth of the circumstances around Christina's murder - and it connects them in a way they never anticipated. It could also become a burden on their future. Myka is about to speak when one of the officers steps into their line of sight, murmusrs something, and Helena nods and allows herself to be led out. 

She looks to where the paramedic is working on Sykes, and her father is having his hands cuffed, "Wait!" she says, louder than intended, and the officer turns, looks between her and Pete who shakes his head. The cuffs are returned to the officer's belt and Warren Bering is also led out, head bowed, and he doesn't look his daughter in the face this time.

\----

When she arrives at the station, having followed the convoy back from the airfield, she notices two things. It is busier than usual for a weekend, and Pete is in Captain Frederic's office before her. Her father and Helena are nowhere to be seen, presumably ensconced in interview rooms, he may even be in one of the overnight cells. She doesn't know how she drove there, having insisted she was ok, but if she's honest she can't remember a single turn, or stopping at a single light. The Captain catches her eye and looks at Pete who turns, a relieved yet unsure smile on his face. 

She heads straight for them, opens the door and closes it behind her. Looking between them, she senses that even her Captain seems a little uncomfortable, while Pete avoids her eyes altogether. She's hurting, this day has turned into an amalgamation of all her fears - of failure, betrayal, inadequacy. With too many emotions fighting for dominance, she settles on anger, because it's the one that will stave off any tears, for now.

Hands on hips, she glares at them, "Why did I find out about this after everyone else?" 

Captain Frederic straightens, "Detective Bering. Please, take a seat."

Myka wants to be stubborn, but gives in, sitting on the edge of the chair, and Pete does too. Frederic places a gloved hand on a battered box file that sits on her desk, held in a large evidence bag along with a brown A4 envelope. Myka eyes it with fierce curiosity, but when she gives Pete a questioning look he avoids her gaze.

"Earlier, a warrant was executed on the Downtown Denver storage facility, where, as correctly surmised by yourself and Detective Lattimer, there was a safety deposit box for which Diamond held the key." 

"Yes - you sent Pete without me," Myka states, irritated by the formality, and looks at him again, he just shrugs.

"I did," Myka slowly turns her head from Pete to the Captain who taps the box, "This is what Marcus Diamond was seemingly hoping would be his meal ticket."

Myka feels the bubble of resentment about to burst, “Why didn’t you involve me?” 

"Myka..." Pete starts to speak, but she holds a hand up to stop him, and she eyes her Captain. 

"Explain to me, why I was kept in the dark," she says flatly, and she doesn't care how she is speaking to her superior.

The Captain raises her eyebrows at Myka’s tone, but slides the envelope from the bag, and takes out what looks like a series of photographs which she holds face down.

"I think todays events explain why," and the Captain briefly removes her glasses to clean them. "I had a suspicion, I was hoping to have it disproved, to spare you, Detective." 

Myka is surprised by their Captain displaying a rare personal touch, but it doesn't explain for her why she was kept out of the loop. She shakes her head.

"No, that's bull," she says, "You didn't trust me to do my job properly, that's the truth of it."

Frederic sighs, "You may believe that, but it wasn't my thought at all. I admit, however, that as it transpires, it was pointless to exclude you, Detective Bering." She presses on, "There are documents, records, photographs in this box which implicate a select number of current officers in dealings with the criminal fraternity,” she says evenly. 

As if on cue, Pete clears his throat as his attention turns out into the main room, where Myka sees Desk Sergeant Channing in civilian clothing, being walked through towards an interview room. She is astounded that Channing is implicated, but it makes sense. He is an old friend of her father's, after all. 

Frederic nods, because she knows what Myka is thinking, “There have been suspicions over certain names in the past,” she pauses, “Links to Walter Sykes, and others”

“So this thing with Diamond, and then Nolan’s testimony…?” Myka trails off, suddenly feeling drained.

“Mykes,” Pete sounds cautious, though he's trying to comfort her it’s the kid gloves tone he uses with victims, and it warns her what is to come.

“Detective...Myka,” Captain Frederic grabs her attention again, and she turns the photographs over on the desk, “Former Commander Bering,” she states, and Myka feels the breath leave her body as she stares at the images before her. It's the stark reality of tangible evidence, not the surreal events of the past hour. 

There’s timestamp for November 2009 on the prints, but two clearly show her father with a little more hair, wearing one of his expensive golfing outfits. He’s in a car park, lifting his clubs into the trunk, and he’s talking with Walter Sykes. Her mind flashes back to their first interview with Sykes, it seems like an age ago, he'd been over familiar when referencing her relationship with her father - knowing. Sykes presents himself as a respected businessman, and at the time of the photos, her father was in the middle of his first mayoral campaign, so them meeting wouldn’t necessarily prove anything.

"He's always been so above reproach," she whispers, but the Captain moves the photos to reveal one underneath. Warren Bering shaking the hand of Marcus Diamond, with Walter Sykes smiling alongside him. 

Pete drops to his haunches beside her, "I'm sorry, Myka, but the evidence is pretty damning, after a quick glance there are logbooks of bribes, other photos, and we haven’t checked the tapes yet.”

She jerks her head up, "You don't have to tell me that, I've just heard him with Sykes, all but confessing he was the one behind Stukowski!"

The Captain gives Myka an apologetic tilt of the head, “Detective, I’m sorry we didn’t involve you this morning, but I held a suspicion and then when we learnt of Sergeant Channing’s movements yesterday, it firmed up that suspicion - he’s an old friend of Warren's.”

Myka's mind drifts to thoughts of her mom and Tracy at home, oblivious, “Yes, yes I know - the Channings - they used to come to dad’s barbecues at the house, before he became Mayor that is,” then she has a thought, "Channing, is that who Helena was following? Was everyone aware of the little operation this morning?"

She stands, suddenly feeling trapped, and Pete reaches to her but she steps back, and stumbles on the chair. Sucking in a breath and pinching the bridge of her nose, she says "Don't, just don't. I need to get some air." 

She spins and flings the office door back on its hinges, harder than intended, and all eyes are on her as she stalks out to the front of the building. For all her resentment of her father, she still feels the admiration of his career, a long successful one. She recalls her father’s stoic and steady presence, when as a young impressionable girl eager to please and win approval, she had polished the buckles and buttons on his uniform and badge. Less fondly, she remembers the severe admonishment she had received as a seven year old when he found his badge attached to her own blazer, hung across a chair in the yard of their old home. She had not done it again, and she never told him she had been setting up a sergeant's desk of her own - to imitate the father she had seen on a brief visit to his workplace with her mother. It seemed that as she got older and more inquisitive his tolerance lessened and it was a painful lesson to learn. Today she is learning that the inquisitiveness about him and his career that she had suppressed and avoided, was exactly what she needed now. She can’t quite believe what has happened, how she felt stood in that plane, with the history between the three people there. Her father. Helena.

She jogs down the steps and locks herself into her car, regretting it immediately because it is stifling. Gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, she turns the key to run the engine and gain some relief from the air conditioning. She isn't sure how long she's been then when there's a tap on the passenger side window and Pete is leaning down, eyes pleading to be let in. She doesn't know what she feels - irrationally foolish, betrayed, sad, angry, inadequate - all of these things with all people.

Yet if, as it seems, her dad is guilty of this corruption, she should not be surprised. The upstanding mayor, family man - the unforgiving, cold father, two personas so why not a third? The third. A man whose apparent deception has been stored in a safe deposit box, and possibly in another before that. The gift that keeps on giving, Helena had said of her past. She snaps her head back to Pete who is patiently waiting. She releases the lock and he eases himself into the passenger seat.

"Did Helena know?" She says before he's even shut the car door, but he looks at her in confusion. "If she was following Channing, did she know about the evidence too, about my dad?"

"No, how could she?" He pauses, sighs, "The Captain rang me at 8, I was in Denver for 9. She explained her fears about your dad, but all she said was that Channing's movements indicated there might be something to it." He makes her look him in the eyes, "Myka the Captain wanted to protect you, I agreed with her."

This makes Myka angry again, "No, stop saying that. It's my job, You can't keep me in the dark, I don't need protecting!"

He's silent and Myka decides to take that as acknowledgement that she is in the right. 

Pete clears his throat, "We have a job, don't shoot the messenger ok?" he pleads, briefly flinging his hands up defensively. 

He rushes out the words to stem her protests, "The Captain needs us to go question Stukowski again, now." 

"Something to occupy me?" She smiles ruefully, because she knows that's what it is. Why questioning her now be so urgent. "Is that all?" she asks.

"An update" he touches her arm briefly, before pulling his hand back. "Your dad is being processed for evidence, as is H.G. He is under arrest, she is a witness."

"And Sykes?" 

"In surgery."

She puffs out a teary laugh, "Not a murderer yet, then..." and she sobers "I need to warn my mom and sister."

"I told the Captain you'd say something like that. She agrees." 

\----

Pete accompanies Myka to her parent’s house, one of Frederic’s trusted officers has followed in an unmarked car and come into the house with them, to be greeted with a look of confusion from Jeannie Bering. 

“Mom, where’s Trace, I need to speak with you both,” Myka says, and the look of blind panic on her face as she eyes the silent officer in the doorway has Myka berating herself, “No, mom it’s not what you are thinking.”

“Then why the escort, Myka?” her mother asks, recovering her expression, but concern lacing her words. 

“Where’s Trace?” she repeats, and her mother sighs, “On the patio,” and draws Myka along the hallway. 

Myka turns and gestures for Pete and their escort to wait, while she follows through the kitchen and out to where Tracy is sat at a table, on which there is a jug of fruit juice, two glasses and a stack of magazines. Mother daughter bonding time it, Myka surmises, and she doesn’t feel jealous, just relief that Tracy seems to enjoy it and take the expectation away from Myka. Perceptive, observant Tracy knows Myka, and she senses immediately that something is up. 

“Myka?” She squints, trying to read her sister's uncomfortable demeanor, “What’s happened?” she closes the magazine in her hand and tosses it back onto the pile.

Myka takes a seat at the table and waits until her mother does the same. 

“Right, here’s the thing,” she, pinches at her nose, then forces her hands away from her face and hair, placing them flat on the cool tile of the patio table. “It _is_ about dad, but he's...he's _safe_.” She quickly seeks to reassure her mother again.

“Okay. Myka?” Tracy prompts, and Myka sees her hand move to touch and rest on their mother’s arm. 

"He's at the station, there’s an investigation he is involved in.” She knows it is skirting the issue, but she also knows she needs Tracy's help with this.

Her mother laughs, relieved, “Oh, Myka is that all? Of course your father will be helping, is it a cold case? He’s helped on one or two before,” she takes a sip of her drink, and misses the look that passes between her daughters. Tracy has seen Myka wince, and she pats the skin where her hand still holds Jeannie Bering’s arm.

“Mom, I don’t think that’s what Myka is saying…” 

Their mother looks in confusion, and Myka says, "Mom, Dad is the one under investigation." 

"I...I don't understand, Myka?"

Myka takes the hand that has half reached across the table to her, "Neither do I mom, but I'm going to try to, there is some evidence that has been uncovered, it needs explaining." She squeezes the fingers gently, "That's what the officer in the hall is for, to take you to the station if need be, but I think it's best if you stay home for now."

Her mother's eyes harden and she pulls her hand back, and Myka flinches, "Is your father under arrest? Have _you_ arrested him?" 

"Yes, No, I...I didn't know. Something happened this morning, with Walter Sykes. Dad just needs to cooperate...he can..." she's stammering through the words, suddenly feeling like the worst daughter in the world. 

"Myka," it's Tracy, stopping her from rambling, "Myka, what happened?" 

Myka stands and shakes her head, moving around the table she places a hand on her mother's shoulder, and jerks her head in the direction of the hallway, "Mom, I'm just gonna talk to Trace for a minute."

Their mother deflates, and offers a tight smile, as if recognising this is the best way for Myka cope. She brings a conciliatory hand up to press Myka's, "Thank you for the warning."

In the hall, in sight of Pete, Myka gives Tracy an edited version of the events and the history behind it. Tracy's eyes widen the further she gets into the tale, cursing when she hears about the shooting. 

"He was trying to protect you?" she asks at the end.

Myka hasn't really thought about it - Sykes had made the decision to eliminate the immediate threat, Myka - all three of them had seen that, but her father had acted first. Whether to protect Myka, or as an act of self preservation, the end result was that they were safe.

"I guess so..." Myka shrugs, not quite reconciled to the idea. "You'll stay?"

Tracy nods, "I'm not due to head home until tomorrow, but I'll stay as long as I need to."

They'd spent less than twenty minutes at the house by the time they're driving away, having left the other officer sat in a car outside the house. 

\------

The same two police officers that relieved her and Helena a few nights ago are stood outside Stukowski's room, and they acknowledged Myka with a tip to their hats when she arrived with Pete. The patient is having her dressings changed, and so now, Myka is pacing the corridor, worrying her bottom lip, mind still racing with everything that has happened.

Pete attracts her attention with a wave of his hand, "Myka, sit, you'll wear a groove into the floor." 

"Don't tell me what to do Pete, just let me deal with this," she says, with a flip of her own hand.

"Okay, okay," he sighs, and returns to browsing the magazine he'd picked up from the table beside him.

Myka feels a twinge of remorse for letting Pete bear the brunt of her simmering resentment, when in reality his culpability in her eyes is minimal. He was following orders, convinced it was in her best interests by the person giving them. He was a good cop, not corruptible, but honest and dedicated. On the way over, he'd filled her in on an interesting detail about the evidence he'd recovered from Denver. The box was full, but contained two very distinct sets of material. There were documents, tapes and photographs loosely housed in the box itself, but also a ziplock bag full of additional evidence, including a small black book detailing protection monies collected. The manager of the facility had also handed Pete an envelope that had been received in the post with the instruction to give it to whoever accessed the box. It had contained a simple typewritten note - 'TELL WALTER WE ARE EVEN'.

When they finally access the room, Stukowski’s lawyer has arrived fresh from a visit to the District Attorney offices, having agreed terms for any consideration of leniency for information shared. It appeared that both Stukowski and lawyer were as yet unaware of the apprehension of Sykes and Myka's father, so by silent agreement Pete and Myka decided to keep that development quiet.

Her lawyer is pragmatic, but also impatient to get this interview done so he can be elsewhere. Stukowski looks ready to bolt and if it weren’t for the small matter of a broken ankle she would likely try to escape custody. 

“The dynamic duo return,” she chuckles, “and what happy news are you bringing me today, Detectives?”

Pete offer his most charming smile, “The happy news that we’ve finished your job for you, Sally.” 

“The question for you is, are you going to continue denying yourself the chance to earn some bonus points with the DA’s office?” Myka adds, with a glance to the lawyer, as she pulls out one of the chairs from the wall and sits, cross legged. 

Stukowski tilts her head, calculating, then speaks, “I imagine you feel pretty conflicted about what you found then, Detective _Bering_?” Her insinuating expression bores into Myka, who keeps calm, but the clench of her jaw doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes, I see you found something closer to home than you expected,” she chuckles, then sighs in resignation, “I guess the game is up, then.” 

But Stukowski’s words strike a chord with Myka, who leans forward, thinking “ _Closer to home_.” 

It’s what Sykes had said to Helena when she’d confronted him after Claudia’s attack. That Myka should look closer to home. This just reaffirmed Sykes had known what Marcus had, evidence of police corruption at the highest level - her father. Judging by Marcus’s note however, Sykes thought his man was loyal to the end.

She says “You weren’t working for Sykes, were you?” 

Stukowski tuts, “Took you long enough to figure that one out...no, not these days,” she pauses, “Look, I’ll cut to the chase and the advice better be worth what I’m paying for it.” 

She gives her lawyer a derisive look, but he takes it on the chin, clearing his throat then nodding gravely, “Believe me Sally, this is your best option.” 

She scoffs, “Trapped in a corner, it seems,” and she looks at Myka and Pete in turn, “Sit down Detective Lattimer, I can’t abide your fidgeting,” she drawls.

Pete sighs and grabs a chair, knowing it makes sense to comply while this particular witness is in a cooperative mood. Stukowski proceeds to tell them how she was once caught by a patrol officer as she failed to bag evidence at a scene. It was a deliberate act on behalf of one of her informants, but she got lucky - because the patrol officer himself was also not beyond reproach. She was introduced to another colleague - and when she says the name, Pete and Myka eye each other, recognising it as one of the others mentioned by Frederic - who said there was a small group with similar motivations as her. 

She was eventually trusted enough to know that Warren Bering, Patrol Commander for the CSPD, had a mutually beneficial agreement with Walter Sykes. She became a sort of go-between when required and met Diamond on occasion, though they didn’t become lovers at that time. The status quo was disturbed by James McPherson, when he threatened to blackmail mayor-in-waiting Bering with evidence of his police cronies accepting bribes. He was also encroaching on Sykes territory.

“McPherson thought he was cleverer than he was,” she says with a pitying laugh, “I learnt from one of his cohort about his use of three banks, but one of them he would visit for longer periods than the others.”

Myka knows where this is going, and feels ill at the thought. She draws in a long breath to calm her nerves, and urges the smirking Stukowski to continue.

“Sykes tasked Marcus to retrieve the evidence, and I think you know what happened there,” she pauses, and at least has the decency to appear sorry, “It was regrettable, obviously, but in the end, Diamond got the evidence.”

“But he didn’t destroy it,” Myka says quietly. 

“No, although it seems he fooled us all in one way or another. He told me, and by proxy, Warren, that it was destroyed,” she says, “I was tasked to help him evade arrest, that is when we became ‘close’, as your Captain so prudishly put it.”

Stukowski’s familiar use of her father’s forename pains Myka, for more than one reason, but she forces her feelings down. Being dispassionate about the turn of events today is the best way she can cope and process at the same time. But something isn’t quite joining up, 

“The evidence implicated Sykes quite definitively, too,” she says and watches both Pete’s and Sally’s eyebrows rise at that revelation. Pete, because that really isn’t something she would usually share with a suspect. Sally’s soft laughter breaks any tension.

“You know, that makes sense,” she says, “After all, I did get the message to him that Sykes had grassed on our location in return for McPherson. I guess Marcus told his boss a tall tail too.” 

Pete jumps in, a confused frown twisting his features, “So how did you go from being best pals with him to strapping him to a chair and injecting him with a lethal dose of tranquilisers?” 

Her reaction is instant, “That was an accident!” she looks at her lawyer who seeks to reassure her.

“Detectives,” he adds warningly, tapping his watch at the same time. 

“Ok” Pete says, “Go ahead” he gestures with his hands and sits back. Sally Stukowski wipes flat palms across her cheeks before continuing. 

“He wasn’t cooperating enough, and then at one point he started to struggle quite violently, and I panicked and quickly gave him a dose,” she does seem truly regretful at this point, “I think he had been pretending to be subdued, and I made a mistake….” she tapers off, then appears to steel herself. 

“There’s not much loyalty in our circles, but,” and she looks at Myka now, “I was loyal to your father. Marcus foolishly tried to blackmail him when his appeal came around, it seems in the hope of gaining an advantage where he’d been told there was no hope of success.”

Myka sucks in a breath through her teeth, “My father asked you to sort it out?” Sally nods and Myka connects the dots, “The appeal also gave you the perfect red herring.”

Sally smiles, “Yes - I think the grieving mother Wells proved a great distraction, did she not? Plus, I owed her one for Marcus finally being caught - that dented my pride a little.”

Myka is about to bite back, but Pete again intervenes, and Myka makes a mental note to thank him for it later. “Why didn’t he just call on his pal Sykes - I mean, he would have contacts in the prison.” 

“He did,” Sally states, “But they have not been on such friendly terms lately, and Sykes obviously thought he was safe. He refused to help, because it gave him leverage.” 

As they are leaving the room five minutes later, Stukowski offers a parting shot to stir the pot and what she obviously thinks is an ace in her pack. In reality it was now a wasted card.

“Knowing Warren as I do, and if he thinks the net is closing,” she smiles at Myka, “My guess is he’s gone crawling to Sykes in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation.”

Clearly her loyalty to Mayor Bering had reached an end.

\----

Back at the precinct, Myka notices Steve's bike and Claudia's car parked up outside, and as she is jogging up the steps they both emerge from the revolving door. Behind them is Helena, head bowed, and when Claudia sees Myka she leans back to murmur into her friend's ear. When their eyes meet, the sadness in Helena stops Myka in her tracks. When they pass, Steve and Claudia nod their acknowledgement but Helena stops a few steps above Myka, twiddling the zipper on her leather jacket.

Myka isn't sure how to _be_ , but at least knows that now isn't the time for the talking they need to do.

She closes the gap between them so that their eyes are level, and lifts her hands as if to cup Helena's elbows, but stops herself, instead asking, "You can go home?"

Helena carefully tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ears, "Yes, but I must stay in Colorado for the time being," she says, "Myka..."

"Helena, lets..." Myka feels a sting in her eyes, and has to blink back the threat of tears, "Will you meet me, later?" 

Helena does now lift her hand to Myka's cheek, to thumb away the moisture in the corner of her eye, "Steve is taking me to collect my bike. You know where we are staying?" 

Myka nods into her palm, "I'll text you."

They part, but not before Steve runs back up while Helena is busy putting a helmet on. He pulls Myka into a hug, mumbling thanks into her ear. 

"Thanks?" she pulls back in confusion, but he smiles.

"Yes, thanks. Myka," his mouth falls, "I'm sorry where this has led, but...it's over now. I'm thanking you for Helena. For giving Helena hope and, I think, love. If she hadn't had that then I don't know that this would have ended well for her."

"It's not quite over yet, Steve," Myka says, because she doesn't know what to say to the rest. He twists his mouth a little, but then hugs her again and bounds down the steps. 

Pete has been hovering at the entrance to the station, and answers the first question she was going to ask, "I've checked, if you want to speak with your dad, now's the time."

By the time Myka is stepping into the interview room where her father is sat, the sting of having her boss doubt her professionality has lessened somewhat. It has always been her father who managed to make her doubt herself, perhaps Frederic was more concerned with him than Myka.

He doesn't look at her when she walks in and sits opposite, instead choosing to examine his fingernails, a frequent habit whenever she would enter his study as a nervous teen. He is in a blue overall, his hands are scrubbed clean of Sykes's blood. She hesitates, but then finds her voice with what should be welcome news.

"Walter Sykes is out of surgery," she says, "He'll live."

He nods, and rubs his forehead, clearly relieved. 

"You knew," he states, and she understands that he thinks she was aware of an investigation.

"No, Dad. I really didn't." she says with a roll of her eyes, "and even if I did, what I've been told - Dad is it true?" 

He sets his mouth in a firm line, "I'm not privy to all of the supposed facts."

"You know enough, Dad." Myka's irritation at his evasion surfaces, "Stukowski - you had her go after Diamond because he was trying to blackmail you." 

"Is that what she said?" and there's disappointment in his voice.

She sighs, "They recovered evidence that Diamond had hidden, it's pretty damning."

"I tried, you know," he looks up now, eyes slightly wild, "To pull it back. After getting into office again I told Walter I was out, no more favours." He sounds closer to the man who was slumped in front of Walter Sykes, bloody gun in hand.

"He didn't take kindly to that?" 

"Of course not," he hisses out, and Myka doesn't react, he's a contradiction - slumped, frayed around the edges, but trying and failing to maintain control and authority with his daughter. When she says nothing, he narrows his eyes but continues anyway. 

"It has been fine until the past six months, he wanted preferential treatment in the tenders for public land," he says.

"So when you went to him for help after Marcus got in touch..."

Warren Bering scowls, "He laughed at me, said I wanted to fight my own battles, so fight them," and he shakes his head, "He expected me to go crawling back."

Myka can picture it all, Sykes's glee, her father's pride and contempt, "So you got Sally Stukowski involved." 

He snarls, "I was trying to control the situation. She got out of hand."

"No, dad. You did." Myka is tired of this, because she knows he will try to justify his actions as a means to go on the straight and narrow. Good cop turned bad, aiming for redemption in another public office, when in truth he's just dug deeper. 

"Just like five years ago, letting Sykes send Diamond into that bank, to save your reputation," She holds an image in her head, of Helena's face on the jet when she looked at her father, "He killed a little girl."

She stands up, brushes down her shirt, and looks anywhere but at him, and his silence speaks volumes, "I know you couldn't have predicted that, but it was a consequence you bear some of the blame for, dad. Just the same as for Marcus Diamond's death."

She tucks her chair back under the table, and leaves the room without another word from either of them being spoken.

\---

With the sun setting, Myka pulls up outside the hotel Helena is staying at, and retrieves her phone from it's holder on the dash.

After a brief exchange of texts, Myka leans against her car waiting, watching passersby - happy couples, dads and daughters, elderly companions. All wander past on this busy street, and Myka feels so removed from them all.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Helena appears in front of her, a slight grimace on her face.

"Helena..."

"Let's get out of here?" she says before Myka can continue, passing her a matt black helmet and turning to lead them to her motorbike. 

In silence, they walk, then in silence Helena helps Myka adjust the straps on the helmet, tucking a few stray curls away from her face as she does so. They mount the bike, and Myka holds on to the bar at the rear, waiting for Helena to set off. But Helena's hands reach back, groping blindly until she finds one of Myka's arms, and pulls it forward around her waist, with an embarrassed grumble coming through the radio mic. 

"It's safer for inexperienced pillion passengers to hold the rider.' 

Myka moves her other arm to Helena's waist, with the hint of a smirk on her lips, because _this_ feels right. She only hopes they can both move past the day's events. For now, she enjoys the simplicity of clinging to Helena, feeling the muscles move in the body at her fingertips, the bike at a less frantic pace than the last time Myka was a passenger. They are heading west out of the city and Myka has an inkling of where they will end up, as they join the Mesa Road. Soon, Helena is parking them up at a viewpoint overlooking the Garden of the Gods Park. The sun has set, so they can't see the colour of the imposing reddish sandstone formations, though they loom in shadows and starlight. 

"I've been venturing here to think, some nights," Helena says quietly, breaking their self imposed silence as they perch on a naturally formed seat in a rocky outcrop.

"And what have you been thinking about?" Myka says, shifting to a more comfortable position, inches apart.

"All manner of things," she looks up, "the stars, how very small we are, how very huge the world is, how time seems to change many things, and nothing at all." 

Helena turns as she speaks this last, and Myka sees sadness again, but it's tempered by something else she can't quite identify.

"Your past," Myka says without thinking, "it doesn't change."

Helena's head inclines forward, "It doesn't, but maybe today it has finally been put to rest. Only, I am sorry Myka, that I didn't share with you sooner, the moment I realised that your father..." she looks down at her clasped hands, "it happened so fast, I..." she laughs nervously, "and Steve has threatened me with Claudia fitting a permanent tracking device to my person."

"You tried to tell me, I realise that now," Myka says to Helena's bowed head, recalling their brief exchange on the phone that very morning. "I am still angry over this whole situation, my own colleagues kept me in the dark," she struggles to fight the emotion bubbling up in her chest, and can't prevent her eyes welling up. "but then I look at you and I think about what happened to you because of _my_ father..." 

"No, Myka," Helena's head jerks up, "Don't go there, please." 

Myka turns away, unable to look Helena in the eye, "Because of him, you found yourself in the wrong place at the absolute worst time possible," she rakes in a shuddering breath, "I knew he was a hard man, god knows, I know that. I just can't believe I didn't see this in him, how could I not see his deception?"

She feels hands grasp her arms, squeezing tight. "He clearly fooled a lot of people, Myka," Helena's voice quiets, "I wish you hadn't seen that, today."

Myka turns back, laughs shakily, "What, the bit where my dad virtually confessed to having a man kidnapped and tortured, to being inexorably linked to Walter Sykes?"

Helena's beseeching demeanour turns almost shameful, "Yes, all of it. But selfishly, the part when I said I would kill them both if I had hold of a gun." 

"You wouldn't have, Helena," Myka says, and when Helena opens her mouth to protest, "because I was there. You wouldn't have."

Helena smiles in acceptance, but her eyes betray that she doesn't quite believe that statement, so Myka brings her hands to Helena's face, gently coaxing her forward so that their foreheads meet. She's mustering all the sincerity she can.

"I trust that you wouldn't have, Helena. And I am so sorry, that you've had to face all of this," she sighs, "I wish you free of it."

"I'll never be totally free, Myka, and I wouldn't want to be," she says, and adjusts so that her breath ghosts against Myka's cheek, "I do, however, want someone to look forward with." 

She brushes her lips against Myka's, the slightest pressure, a question under cover of the night sky. Myka wants to just give in, but something tickles on the edge of this incongruous romantic haze, it is her perpetual state of pragmatism. She pulls away, just slightly, and feels Helena's hands slacken where they still hold her arms. 

"I'm not saying no," she breathes out in a rush, "I just want you to be sure, for us both to be sure. You must know that for both of us this isn't quite over yet, there will be trials."

Helena, to Myka's surprise, hums in agreement, "There will be, yes," she says, "But tonight, can we forget about the future as well as the past?" 

She shifts closer and drops her hands to pull Myka in at the waist, so that Myka is compelled to push her arms around Helena's shoulders, and Helena murmurs into her ear, "I find that right now is when and where I want to be. Just be. With you."

She kisses Myka, and Myka can offer up no resistance, no practicalities, or worries. There, under the stars, with cool lips dancing on her skin, firm hands at her waist and the possibility that they will move forward together, Myka lets herself go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I am hoping that there were enough hints along the way to point to the revelation in this chapter. The final chapter will jump forward a few months and be from Helena's PoV.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months down the line, a familiar location is revisited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the final part. Thanks to everyone who has read, added kudos or commented. It is appreciated, and is great motivation to work on a new fic...

**_3 months later_ **

Helena claps her gloved hands together and brings them to her mouth, blowing warm air into the wooly material. It's a crisp, overcast afternoon, and she has to dodge icy patches dotted along the track that she walks. The journey to this day has been fraught with revelations, and this day is not over yet, she is unsure what it holds.

Helena vividly remembers encountering Myka Bering for the first time, just over a year ago. Having arrived at Arthur's cabin only hours before, cursing the cold and wondering why she'd not headed south and west, she had been confronted with a woman who took her breath away. It turned into an unanticipated whirlwind - literally and figuratively - forced together by a blizzard, they had given in to an intense attraction, and Myka had pushed past Helena's casual flirtations and too easily gotten under her skin.

Then Helena had ran, pure and simple. It wasn't a lie that she had to leave for a new job, but it had been a natural response to pack her things and go. Confronted over those few days with Myka's open gaze, a common loss reflected in them, she had been scared by the stirring of emotion she had been tamping down for so long. Myka opening up about her loss was overwhelming, and no matter what they were to each other in that time, she hadn't been ready to expose her own grief to scrutiny. 

On the morning she left, she'd watched Myka in the early dawn light, sleeping soundly, her faint, even breaths disturbing the wisp of hair across her face. Helena had known she was falling, irrationally so, and she sought to chalk it up to the circumstance they were in, and the profound sexual connection they'd made. That she had left a note was testament to her own selfish need not to have Myka think ill of her. Yet the self deprecating message would no doubt backup Myka's own thoughts about Helena's life away from their little bubble. And it _was_ a bubble, a respite from Helena's daily existence - one where she'd found herself taking simple pleasure preparing breakfast for two, taking sneaking peeks through a window at a woman moving with practiced ease shovelling snow, and allowing herself to gaze as that same woman's brow furrowed while reading, snuggled up by the fire. 

Bering was not a common name, and it was months later when she was on a case during the Colorado mayoral campaigns that she'd seen it again, and wondered. A part of her wanted to investigate, it would have been a straightforward task to trace Myka, but her dominant feeling had been one of self reproach. She had left Myka alone, she had aroused feelings she didn't feel entitled to, no matter what she had said to Myka about feeling guilty for indulging. Then, there was the realisation that she didn't want to take the risk and find that Myka didn't appreciate her curiosity. 

So when Myka had turned up at her hotel, with that lummock Lattimer, when she'd seen the recognition, and more: the fleeting joy in her eyes at seeing someone she never thought to again, Helena had felt like a train struggling to stay on the tracks. That same unanticipated want, but now paired with regret - for back then, and most likely for the future. 

For her to see Myka again under a cloud of suspicion seemed fitting. Helena had fought the urge to reach out when Myka came to her that same night, and sensed that any resistance would have crumbled had she done so. She was frustrated with the authorities, of which Myka was a steadfast part; and her wrath at Marcus Diamond was resurfacing anew. She knew Myka didn't understand her need to do something, didn't understand her distrust in the police to bring him back to book. When Rebecca had informed Helena of Diamond's appeal weeks before she had raged about it, much as she had in the police interview room with Myka and Pete. She knew she'd be a suspect, if it weren't for Steve she would have been more than that first time around. 

Yet, as the weeks had progressed, Myka's growing trust in her was baffling in the face of revelations about Helena's past. She was humbled by Myka's acceptance and amused by her exasperation over Helena's stubbornness, they were learning more about each other's realities. Myka's knowledge of Christina's murder had struck a chord, solving a puzzle for Myka about their time trapped in the cabin; and for the first time Helena had opened up to someone other than Steve, whose calming presence in her life had helped her see past her wish for vengeance for her daughter. Christina, who would have been a teen now, the remembrance of that last day together would always be part joy, part indescribable pain.

Steve and Claudia, even Arthur to an extent, had given her friendship and purpose when she had been at her lowest and angriest with her lot. Myka, Helena had come to realise, as she struggled to cope with resurfacing memories and emotions, was who gave her a sense of peace and the hope of something more than her drifting existence. The life of a bounty hunter allowed her to keep moving, to not be known in any permanent sense by too many, to avoid love and what that could bring. Helena knew that she had been right about Myka Bering, she could and would fall for her if she allowed herself, if Myka wanted that too. So when faced with the ultimate truth of why she and Christina had been caught up in a bank robbery, Helena had clung to that. Clung to the thought of Myka, her trust, and her affection. They'd spent a night together, then over the following days the reality of all that had transpired had hit. Helena, if things had gone differently may have done something irreversible; while Myka felt betrayed by her father, her colleagues and a little by Helena herself, but also more of that unfounded guilt, this time on his behalf. 

So Helena had returned to Vegas, thrown herself into work with the ever solid Steve, cajoling Claudia and stoic Arthur. In Colorado Springs Myka had filed her paperwork, supported her family and worked through the shock of discoveries about her father's past. They'd kept in touch, even seen each other briefly a few times, but they had each known to give the other space. Until now. They'd once half joked in passing at a pretrial hearing for Walter Sykes, about meeting back at the cabin in the new year. The even set a date with no expectations of what it would mean or whether it would come to pass. Today was that date.

She has seen no vehicles other than her own, though there is the muted glow of a light in the cabin ahead, and fairly fresh tyre tracks in the light dusting of snow. Still, she wonders if she will be alone once she arrives at her destination. Eventually she reaches the door she, and draws in a deep breath before rapping firmly on the wood. 

"What brings you out, in this inclement weather?" a voice behind her speaks remembered words, and Helena feels her skin tingle, and her heart thump heavy in her chest.

"I have an appointment to keep," she says without turning, and she hears the unruly thud of logs being dropped to the floor, and within moments she feels a body immediately behind her, though no arms seek to wrap around her.

"You're late," the words are husked into her ear, "I wasn't sure you were coming."

Helena doesn't turn, but subconsciously leans back, and knows she will sound exposed when she responds, "I wasn't sure you were here." 

"Got a lift. Is that ok, Ms. Wells?"

Helena is grateful for Myka's playfulness, and feels a buzz of delight when she does turn to see the hint of a familiar crooked smile before her. They are both hesitant because although they've talked, it is the first time they've seen each other in almost two months.

"Fine by me, Detective Bering," she says with her own smile breaking free. Myka frowns.

Helena feels her smile falter, but Myka schools her expression, "Ah, yes...about that," and she looks away briefly, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, "I have news." 

They move in from the cold, retrieving the wood Myka had been carrying - but she has already set the fire going at a ferocious pace, and there is a delicious smell drifting from the kitchen. Helena tries to peek into the oven, but has her hands batted away, and is sent to unpack. Myka has imposed a ban on serious talk until they've eaten. It feels...almost domestic, even though they are far away from being that.

Helena hauls her bag over her shoulder and steps into the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. She stops at the first, the light from a lamp and a gap in the door allows her to see that Myka has laid claim to it. She considers just dropping her bag on that bed, but decides caution is the better path, and instead leaves it in the room opposite. When she steps back into the living area, she notices there have been changes. 

"It seems different here, I can't place my finger on it," she says, hovering in the doorway where she can look into both the kitchen and the lounge. 

"It's the wall colour, in here, greens instead of reds," Myka looks back over her shoulder from where she is preparing vegetables, then she points with the knife in her hand, "There's a new sofa and chair in there," and there's a faint blush and a smirk on her face when she catches Helena's eye.

Helena coughs out a laugh, brazenly rising to the expression on Myka's face, "Oh dear, I hope Arthur didn't get a sixth sense of what we did on his furniture and decide to change it!"  
This elicits an even deeper blush.

"Helena!" Myka chastises but she's laughing too, "Make yourself useful and set the table."

They continue to chat over dinner, and it's easy enough because both of them are avoiding the topics they need to broach. Eventually, a few glasses of wine later, and Helena decides she needs to be the one to start the ball rolling. Myka’s easygoing nature so far belies the reluctance Helena can see, and she suspects it's out of a misguided need to protect Helena's feelings; and because she's conflicted about certain outcomes during the last few months. 

Helena places a hand on Myka's arm while she is in the middle of a critique of the book she has been reading. 

"Myka," she says softly, and embarrassed eyes look up from the book clenched in her hand.

"I'm rambling aren't I?" she says.

"While I do love the sound of your voice, and how your mind works," Helena says, "I would also like to talk to you about other matters."

Myka tosses the book back onto the coffee table and shrugs, her expression now guilt ridden, "You got me, I've been avoiding. It's just...difficult."

From her position at the opposite end of the new sofa, Helena nudges Myka's thigh with her toes, and tucks them under. Myka sighs and lets a hand rest on her calf.

"Is it crazy to say I've missed you?" she says quietly, unsure. 

Helena feels a little relief at the words, because, "If it is, then I'm crazy too," she says with a smile, and before they get distracted decides the indirect, if unsubtle, route is best, "How is your family?"

Myka's own smile drops and the hand that has been gently caressing Helena's leg stills. 

"Mom has...not been great if truth be told, but it could have been worse, she knows that. A new grandson has been a very happy distraction," Myka smiles fondly before finishing the wine in her glass and she stands to retrieve the half full bottle from the kitchen. It's another delaying tactic, Helena knows because she's always been quite practiced at it.

Myka returns, pouring the wine in her own glass before topping up Helena's and retreating to stand by the fireplace. 

"My father, well, he has a very good lawyer," Myka says, looking anywhere but at Helena, "They've entered into a plea and he will serve fifteen years, in return for his testimony at Sykes's trial. Stukowski is still going to trial on reduced charge, but she is also testifying against Sykes." 

_Fifteen years._ Helena closes her eyes, and she understands Myka's conflict, because she feels it too. This is Myka's father, one cog in the wheel that led to Christina's death, yet here is Myka in front of her, faith shaken, hurt and feeling guilt where she should feel none. 

"It's a long time for an ex police officer to spend in prison," Helena observes, “with a grandson on the outside, too.” It's meant both as a reminder to herself that he is being punished, and to Myka that Helena has accepted his case will not be going to court.

Myka's eyes are wide and glistening, "He's covered up some terrible crimes for Sykes, and the robbery..." she trails off, "But he's my dad, and there's mom, and Trace..." 

Helena swings her legs from the sofa, places her glass on the table and goes to Myka. Stood directly before her, looking up into those eyes, Helena feels more at peace than she ever thought she would, and she wants Myka to feel it too. She pulls Myka's arms around her waist, then runs her own hands up along her arms to bring her palms to rest on Myka's breastbone.

"Did I say that I've missed you, Myka Bering," she whispers, "How little time we have known each other, I missed you so." She dips her head, looking at where her hands touch the skin at the point Myka's scooped t-shirt dips. 

"But what I do not miss," Helena clarifies, looking up to ensure Myka's full attention, "I do not miss how we both beat ourselves up about things beyond our control." 

Helena knows that what she is saying flies against her own actions and emotions over the past five years, and more recently even, in the time Myka has known her. She sees a slight rise in Myka's eyebrows, and the hands at her waist squeeze agreement, "Yeah, we do that," Myka puffs out shakily. 

"It's taken me a long time to get to this point," Helena continues, and acknowledges Myka's other source of pain and guilt, "and through all of this, my past rearing it's head, you have been coming to terms with losing Sam...and I'm sorry for it..."

"We deserve to feel something different," Myka interrupts, understanding dawning, even as she smudges away the wetness at her eyes.

Helena nods, "Yes darling, we do." 

She feels suddenly exposed, because she has been waiting to make a suggestion and she isn't entirely sure Myka will be receptive. They've given each other space to process everything that has happened, including the raw emotions brought out by events at Meadow Lake. It has served to crystallize Helena's feelings, and she is clear about what and who she wants and needs in her life. 

Then she remembers, Myka said earlier that she has news. However rapidly her heart beats under Helena's fingertips, or how shallow her breath is with Helena so close, this news may not be what Helena wants to hear. Myka reads the vulnerability in her eyes, because her demeanour switches from hopeful to concerned.

"Hey, what's up?" she asks, and Helena shakes her head.

"Here's me, prattling on and you must have things _you_ want to say," 

Myka shifts, "Lets sit," and though they move awkwardly back to the sofa, Helena is grateful for their ungainly maneuvering, because it means they are each loath to break contact. 

Sat close, they lapse into a sudden shyness, and this time it's Myka who bites the bullet. When she does speak, she initially renders Helena speechless. 

"So, I quit my job," she states, and there's a kind of elation about her that before today, Helena would never have associated with Myka leaving her job in law enforcement. Myka had perhaps been expecting a different response, and she nervously tugs at Helena's fingers, "Say something?" 

"You quit your job?" she echoes, "You, Myka Bering, quit your job."

"Yeah," she sighs then, "I know it sounds trite, but I did it for me, and the last time I did that it worked out quite well, so..."

Helena smiles slyly, because she knows Myka is referring to her secondment, and she stills Myka's fingers, "And you are sure?"

"No, not really," she says, blowing out a shaky breath, "But Helena, I am in a goldfish bowl there, even more so now - and honestly this is just bringing forward something I'd thought about already, before everything. I hadn't intended to stay in the Springs forever." 

Myka pauses, seems to steel herself, and tries to maintain the cheer she’d displayed moments before, "Whether we...or not. It's something I need to do."

Helena is happy for Myka, she sees that despite any lingering doubts, the decision once made has lifted a weight from her shoulders. She is relieved for her, but wonders if Myka has other plans she has yet to reveal - that will take her further away from Helena's reach, despite the implied 'we' that she heard.

"What will Lattimer do without you?" she deflects, because she feels selfish thinking about herself.

Myka laughs fondly, "Oh, Pete is pissed, says he was just starting to like me too," she says, "For all his brashness, he has been a great partner to me through all this." She looks up then, and Helena feels her eyes searching her face for clues. 

"You seem upset?" Myka says quietly.

Helena kicks herself, because really this should be good news, it may fit in with her own plans. She just needs to be honest, because if they are to explore what they could be together, honesty is a prerequisite. 

"Do I, I don't mean to, it's just that..." she runs a hand through her hair, gathering her words.

Myka tilts her head, offers a smile so soft it tugs at Helena's gut, "Helena, you're nervous," she says. 

"It would seem so," Helena says, "I suppose I have news of my own, or rather, a proposal of sorts."

Myka's eyes go wider than Helena has ever seen, and she feels Myka's fingers imperceptibly pulling away, then she realises what she has said.

"Oh, oh, no I'm not _proposing_ , definitely not," she rambles, "not that I wouldn't, at some point, maybe..." Two slender fingers are placed on her lips, halting her verbal hole digging. 

"Flattering," Myka deadpans, "What are you proposing, then, Helena Wells?"

Helena decides to _show_ Myka, if only to give herself time to collect her thoughts. She pushes up from the seat, and pulls Myka by the hand to the wall in the hallway, where there is a framed map of North America. 

"So, Arthur is considering expanding," she starts, her finger resting over Las Vegas on the map, "West." She moves her finger across to California and runs it up and down the coast. She chances a sideways glance at Myka, and seeing her eyes darting across the map, mind working overtime, presses on, "He's asked me to scout potential locations, crime rates, the competition...relevant state laws, the usual."

"It's a big job," Myka's tone is carefully neutral, "Are you going to take him up on it?"

"I'm considering it, only," here goes, Helena thinks, "I was hoping I might persuade you to take time off to come with me - another secondment of sorts."

Myka doesn't say anything for a long moment, then a thoughtful expression emerges, "Actually, I do have a bit of spare time on my hands now."

Helena wants to hope, and she feels she needs to explain, but she needs Myka to be serious.

“Don't tease, Myka,” she scolds, and Myka squeezes the hands still clasped in hers.

“You're right, I'm sorry.”

“While on the one hand your news gives me hope that you will be more amenable to the idea, on the other, I fear you may have already made your own plans,” Helena says, “If there's one thing I've learnt about you, Myka, it's that you dislike a lack of control, you prefer to have a plan at the least. Whereas I…”

“You are not averse to flying by the seat of your pants,” Myka fights a grin, but only succeeds in looking at Helena with even more affection.

Helena is still trying hard not to assume, “I thought perhaps there could be a happy medium?”

Myka is quiet, then she shifts so that she is halfway behind Helena, who leans back into her embrace. It's as if Myka is taking courage by not being under the scrutiny of Helena’s eyes.

“The first trial starts in a few weeks,” she says, “and Tracy has a four week old baby…”

Helena stiffens, “I understand,” she says quickly, “I know you have commitments, it was selfish of me to think…” Myka leans forward and shushes her.

“What I'm trying to say is that, this scouting mission of yours, you have a plan of sorts, but it's flexible, yes?”

Helena nods, and relaxes a little, “I rather suspect it's a ploy to keep me occupied, Arthur has been suitably vague about his requirements.”

“Maybe he trusts your research skills and instinct for an opportunity?” Myka says, reminding Helena that she loves Myka's ability to see the best in people, she has been a beneficiary after all.

Myka continues, “I need to stick around for the trial obviously, and to visit mom often - which sounds strange considering my past aversion to family time,” she pauses, “and both of us still have things to work through...but I want to spend time with you, decent, non-fraught time.”

“We still have much to learn about each other,” Helena confirms, because they do, “I hoped that you could see past the dubious nature of my profession, and I remember one of the things we talked about so long ago was your wish to see more of what is beyond Colorado.”

“Yeah,” Myka dips forward again, and murmurs in her ear, “But now, I want to do that with _you_ ,” and she chuckles, “it may take me a while to stop being such a cop about everything.”

But Helena remains serious, “Don't apologise for that, it's who you are, who you have been for a long time, Myka.”

She moves her arms tighter around Helena, “Thanks,” she says quietly.

Then Helena huffs playfully, “Though, I can't have you cramping my style, darling,”

“As if,” and Myka kisses just below and behind her ear, lingering, sending a shiver across her skin. Then she tentatively voices a question, “Your locket?”

Helena shouldn't be surprised that Myka has noticed, she has always worn the locket before, “I'm learning to not rely on it, to remember her by. I wear it sometimes, but she's in here, and here…” She taps her head then presses her hand to her heart.

They snuggle back on the sofa awhile, talking openly about the upcoming trials, and Myka’s decision to leave the department and how it's not totally unrelated to her father. And now that some time has passed, Myka asks and Helena tells more about her own investigations during the case, including her decision to hold back her suspicion of Myka's father. 

“I wanted to spare you, what if it was spurious and I'd sown the seed of doubt in you for nothing?”

Helena knows that Myka is still not happy with her making the choice for her, however well intentioned, but also that she understands the motivation behind it. When Myka switches topic suddenly, Helena is grateful, and files away the thought that there may be times in the future when their trust and need to protect come into conflict. When she shares her ideas for exploring the west coast, Helena revels in Myka’s muted enthusiasm - because it's Myka's way of settling into an idea becoming reality. 

At the end of the night they are on the rug in front of the fire, sprawled on their backs, fingers linked between them, settled into a comfortable silence. Myka shifts onto her side and runs her hand lightly along Helena’s arm.

“Myka,” Helena's voice turns hoarse with anticipation.

“Helena,” it's playful and suggestive, but also lethargic, so Helena summons the energy to push up onto her knees, taking Myka's hands in hers and pulling them both up. 

She says, “You're tired, bed,” and Myka blushes beautifully in the dying embers of the fire, her eyes dropping to their joined hands. Then she pulls them both towards her room, throwing Helena a quizzical look when she sees a bag dropped just inside the door opposite.

“I didn't want to presume…” Helena says with a lazy smirk, as she's tugged into Myka's room, and the door is closed behind them. 

They are suddenly shy, because while the want has always been present, the circumstance feels different. Myka steps forward and starts to slowly unbutton the casual shirt Helena is wearing, dragging a nail down between her breasts, breathing onto her neck with heavy sighs.

“I'm so tired, but I've waited too long. To have this again...”

Helena shivers at the cadence of Myka's voice, and sets to work helping her tackle the remaining buttons. Then, she removes Myka's top layers and gently turns her to sit on the bed.

Helena bends to her ear, "So. Whether we...or not?" she says, "I guess this is the answer." 

Myka looks up with pure affection before diverting her attention and efforts to Helena's pants.

They fumble in their sleepy state, feeling no urgency or sense of _this could be the last time_. They slip under cover, warm skin meeting skin, breasts softly pressed together, seeking leverage against firm thighs and sharp hips, deft fingers teasing and tickling. Helena puts her hot open mouth to Myka's neck (she's discovering it's a weakness for her); Myka runs her hands lightly along Helena's arms to where Helena's hands are gently gripping muscle, runs them along the back of Helena's thighs (she revels in the shiver it elicits); they both gravitate away from one spot (they are pushing each other to the point of unequivocal _need_ ).

Then Helena finds herself having to resist Myka's strain for friction, and even in her tired state of being, Myka's strength thrills Helena as she seeks to draw out the sensations for both of them. She smiles slyly against Myka's inner thigh when she hears her name on Myka's lips, and an almost incoherent plea, "Touch...you, touch...me."

Helena drags her tongue along clammy, sweet smelling skin - from Myka's navel to the dip at the base of that gorgeous neck.

"Touch me, then" Helena croaks with desire, taking hold of the hand that is pressing at the base of her back and pushing it round and between her legs, letting her own fingers drift down to finally touch Myka.

The tease has been worth it, because with their fingers swift and needy, with Helena sucking at Myka's collarbone, and Myka's hot breath in her ear, they both go over the edge so quickly that they will breathlessly laugh with elation. 

"Helena..." Myka gasps, and softly laughs again, flushed and beautiful. 

Helena can't voice the words in her mind, and she's subconsciously drawing her fingers over the heat of Myka's back when she suddenly feels a hand on her face. She looks into Myka's half closed yet adoring eyes, and when Myka speaks two words, _"Me too,"_ Helena realises she's said what she wanted to anyway.

More than most, Helena Wells and Myka Bering know that nothing is set in stone, that life can hit you for six at any time; but right now, the beginnings of a common future in sight, they are ready to focus on the best of it.


End file.
